The Twelve Days of Christmas
by Taste of Cinnamon
Summary: I have always had a reputation of being a bit uptight. But what’s a girl supposed to do when James Potter shows up on her doorstep dressed in a French Maid’s outfit? Summary inside.
1. The French Maid

**Summary: It's Christmas in Lily's seventh year, and this time around, a certain James Potter has decided 'no' is not an answer and has found a way to make her holiday season almost unbearable. How? By tormenting her with a present for every day of Christmas (twelve). Anyone else would enjoy such treatment, but when Lily and James are involved, things get a bit hectic. But wait, is that mistletoe I spy around the corner?**

**---**

**Nov 6, 2005**

**A/N: I know I already have a Lily/James story I'm working on, but I thought it'd be interesting to take on another one, same characters, different plot. A nice challenge for me, especially since I'll have to switch off and on between humor and romance. **

**So this one's basically another idea I have as to how Lily and James hooked up, a less believable, but hopefully more interesting one. I'll be alternating between writing the two stories and see where that takes me. Fun.**

**Disclaimer: I'm sure you all know it by heart now. **

**--- --- ---**

**On the First Day of Christmas: The French Maid**

_I, Lilliana Marie Evans, have always had a reputation of being a bit uptight. But what's a girl supposed to do when James Potter shows up on her doorstep dressed in a French Maid's outfit?_

Seriously. I need to go perform a cleansing charm on my eyes now. I've seen things today that do _not_ need to be seen.

When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was that it was nine o'clock. Oh crap. I gotta start sleeping earlier. I looked around. Both Leah's and Salina's beds were empty. Why the hell didn't anyone wake me up?

I hurriedly scrambled out of bed, hoping that I could still catch the last few minutes of charms class. It's then that I realize just how hard and _cold_ the floorboards can be. Ouch.

Lily Evans, meet the floor.

Hello, how do you do? Jolly good weather we're having today.

I lay sprawled on my back on the hard cold floorboards and stared up at the ceiling. Strange. I've never quite noticed that crack there before. I need to learn to be more insightful. For the first time I could remember, I debated with myself whether I really wanted to go to class today.

Then I mentally slapped myself on the head. Of course. It's the first day of Christmas Break. No wonder my friends didn't wake me up. They've already left on vacation.

Muttering to myself, I sat up and rubbed my probably bruised shoulder. Some friends they are; they didn't even bother to say goodbye.

Then another thought hit me. Oh gods. My friends have gone home for the holidays. I'm all alone. I wonder if it's too late to catch the night bus to Australia?

You know, I thought as I sat there, still blinking the sleep from my eyes, someone should really file a complaint to the headmaster about these floorboards. Have I mentioned they're detestable?

That's a nice word, detestable, it is.

I then remembered the nice plush carpets up in the Head dorms, and I wondered why in the world I didn't sleep there more often. Having to deal with James must be worth having nice soft cushioning under you when you fall off your bed.

Tonight, I thought to myself, I'm sleeping in the Head dorms. Forget Potter. He's probably off skiing in the Himalayas anyway.

I pulled on some decent clothes, scrubbed my teeth and my face clean and tottered downstairs to the common room. It was surprisingly empty and I debated for a few moments whether I should forget about breakfast altogether and read for a while next to the fire. Then my stomach gave a loud growl and I headed out the portrait hole.

---

The Great Hall was unusually empty too, now that most of the school had gone home for the holidays. I strolled casually to the Gryffindor table, pulled a bowl of cereal towards me, and began to eat, humming slightly to myself.

That turned out to be the last few minutes of the day that I actually enjoyed.

"Good morning, Miss Evans," came a voice to my left.

I sighed and put down my Daily Prophet, swallowing my mouthful and turning to the source of the greeting.

I came face to face with a grinning Horace Slughorn.

Great. Just great. Of all the people who could've wished me a good morning, he had to be the one to do so. He isn't a bad man, really, but he tends to annoy the living crap out of me. One would think my telepathic death wishes would've had him dropping dead by now.

No wait, I take that back. I'd much rather see him stuffed into a size small parachute and dropped of the astronomy tower. As it is, however, he is still my professor, and I'll need him to pass the Newts. I put on a fake smile.

Thanks to you, _professor_, it is no longer a good morning.

"Morning Professor," I said cheerfully. Maybe he'll leave me alone now.

To my anguish, he chose to sit down beside me on the bench. I felt the wood beneath me quiver a bit and wondered if it'll hold up under his weight.

"I was wondering if you could do me a favor, Miss Evans."

Oh crap. Not again. The last time I did him a 'favor', I found myself being ogled and put on display in all my glory for all the members of the Children are our Future! association.

Never again, Lily, never again.

I gritted my teeth and tried hard not to jinx the fat bastard. It wasn't easy.

I'd rather date a Blast ended Skewrt, I thought vehemently. I'd rather inhale copious amounts of poison. I'd rather kiss James Potter.

Wait a second. What was that last one? I would _not_ rather kiss Potter. What was I thinking? The sugar in my cereal must be getting to me. I leaned over to examine the box in front of me. 33 grams of sugar. Ha! Now you can't call me crazy.

"Miss Evans?"

Dammit. I'd hoped that he would've left by now.

Realizing the pleasant smile had dropped off my face during the course of my musings, I quickly plastered it back on.

"I'd love to."

Crap. Crappidy crappidy crap. I did _not_ just say that. I looked furiously around for someone to save me. Anyone? Hello, damsel in distress here. Even Potter would do.

The corpulent lard ball beamed. "Great!" he chortled, and I had to lean back lest I inhale too much of his sugared breath, "You finish your breakfast and I'll meet you in my office in a few minutes."

I looked back to my now soggy cereal as he waddled off. Suddenly, I've lost my appetite. I wonder if it's too late to go back to bed?

---

As I trudged toward the exit, a masculine figure blocked my path.

"Morning, Evans!" greeted James Potter, the last person I wanted to see right now, especially after that thought I most certainly _hadn't _had about kissing him. _Why_ wasn't he falling off a mountain in the Himalayas?

And why did everybody keep wishing me a good morning? It was most certainly _not_ a good morning. In fact, it's such a bad morning that I was beginning to wish I had never woken up.

Ignoring his remark, I pushed past James and headed toward Slughorn's office on the second floor. Maybe I can manage to get myself lodged in a missing stair somehow along the way.

The annoying git tagged along behind me, and I tried to calm myself down. Jinxing Potter into a million pieces wouldn't do. When he began to whistle a tune, however, I felt my temper rising. I whipped around and pulled out my wand.

"Don't you have other people to torment, Potter?"

He pretended to count off his fingers, the git. "No," he said after a moment, "Sirius is busy trying to bribe the house elves, Peter is probably hanging off a chandelier somewhere, and Remus is…Ah…where is Remus?"

I growled in frustration and left him there with that confused expression on his face. Maybe if I ignore him he'll disappear.

Unfortunately, James was stubborn enough to make up for his lack of charm. "Go out with me, Lily?" he questioned, catching up to me again.

I mentally added 'lack of subtlety' to his list of faults and gave him a pointed look. "For the last time, Potter, _no._ I'd rather go out with Snape."

…Which, in fact, wasn't true, and I looked hurriedly around the hall to make sure the aforementioned wasn't in close proximity. He wasn't. I sighed in relief.

Seriously, though, one would think James had gotten the message by now. This must be the, what, hundredth time he's asked me? I have to admire his determination, though.

James was nonplussed, as he always was. "Fine," he replied coolly, still keeping step beside me, "but I'm willing to bet that by Christmas you'll be singing to a different tune."

I stopped. Arg. Not again. Not another of those annoying bets he's always making with his friends. Why couldn't he find another girl to bug? I felt like sinking down and throwing my hands up, shouting "why me!", but of course, I couldn't. I opted instead for fixing James with a glare. Maybe if I glower at him like this long enough he'll melt into a puddle of nothingness. It's worth a try.

"How much this time, Potter?" I said in my best Dr. Doom voice.

James put on a hurt expression. "Really, now, Evans, I'm hurt that you would think my love for you can be bought with a bet."

I chuckled and almost let my glare slip. I may not be in Ravenclaw, but I'm not stupid. I raised an eyebrow and still managed to scowl at him. Wow, I'm getting rather good at this.

He grinned, then scratched his chin thoughtfully. "A keg of butterbeer, a dozen chocolate frogs, bragging rights among my friends, and my own self interest. Oh, and Salina threw in a galleon."

His last remark threw me off. Salina! My own friend! What a traitor! I made a mental note to strangle her when she returned from break.

Struggling to keep my voice calm, I intoned, "You'd better start picking out your favorite pair of boxers, Potter."

"How'd you know?" he asked, his tone surprised for once.

I grinned to myself. Every time he took on a bet, his part of the deal was to run around the grounds with nothing on but a pair of underwear if he lost, and he always did. If nothing else, James was entirely predictable. I let my glare drop (it wasn't working anyways) and replaced it with a mocking smirk, leaning close to him.

"Myself," I whispered, "I prefer the pair with the little purple house elves on them, the ones you wore last year."

I left him standing there, still incredulous, and sashayed off toward Slughorn's office, breaking into giggles the moment I was out of earshot. Ha! Score one for me. It wasn't often that I could best Potter at his own tricks. This called for a toast. I patted myself on the back.

Still chortling, I ascended the main staircase to the second floor, imagining James prancing around the grounds in his boxers. As much as I hated the guy, I had to admit he had a nice build.

…Not that I ever paid attention to it.

Oh crap. Not again. I've gotta stop eating that cereal.

---

By the time the clock stroked seven and I had trudged to the Head dorms for the evening, the good mood that had come from besting James had dissipated.

The 'favor' Slughorn wanted had turned out to be helping him decide what to wear for a Christmas Party he had been invited to. All the best wizards and witches would be there, according to him. As if I gave a damn.

I had sat there for hours listening to his grunts and wheezes as he tried to squeeze himself into one frilly and overly bright dress shirt after another, and had politely told him what he wanted to hear for each outfit, hoping that he'd let me go. He had insisted, however, that I stay to watch him try on his entire oversized wardrobe. The whole affair had taken a good five hours.

Then, just as he'd finally waved me off for the day (he had decided on a maroon dress robe with horrendous yellow lace linings), I had made the mistake of wishing him a good time at his party.

He had then launched into a two hour monologue on the important people that were going to be there, complete with his own nostalgic reminisces of various protégées of his. The professor had concluded with offering to taking me along to the affair, but by that time I had had quite enough, and had scurried away before he could make any further plans.

So here I was, laying on my back on my bed in the Head Dorms, wondering why _this_ ceiling was so crack free as compared to the one back in the Gryffindor Dormitory, when a loud knock sounded at the door.

I'm not here. Really, I'm not. Answering the door was the last thing I wanted to do at this moment, especially as it could only be one person. Who else could get inside the Head Common Room? Gods I need a sleeping drought.

The knock sounded again, more insistent, and I screwed my eyes shut, preparing for the door to be swung open, lock or no lock. James Potter was the single most adept at picking locks at Hogwarts.

Nothing happened. There was silence. I slowly opened my eyes and reached for my wand. Oh gods. What if there was some kind of monster lurking on the other side of the door? What if it was waiting to rip me up into a million shreds? I don't want to die. I've still got my whole life ahead of me. I still want to see James run around in his house elf boxers.

…So I can laugh and point at him, not because I enjoy seeing his bare chest. Yeah.

I slowly crept off the bed and towards the door, ready to bring up a defensive shield if the need arose. The plush carpet felt wonderful under my bare toes but I had no time to worry about that. Carefully I turned the doorknob and let the door slowly swing open.

Despite myself, I brought my hands up in front of my face to shield it. Gods, what a coward I am. Damn woman, I chided myself, are you a witch or not?

I bit my lip and lowered my arms, peering out into the Head Common Room. Just outside my doorstep, blocking the way out laid a gigantic box that was wrapped in red and white paper, frilly bow and all. It was bigger than me.

Oh wow. I just stared at it for a while, then had to bite my tongue to keep myself from shrieking in excitement and skipping around the room in glee. A present! For me! And it was huge! Oh boy oh boy oh boy.

I skipped over to my desk and grabbed the chair, dragging it over to where the present was. Climbing on top of it, I found a card lying just under the frilly green bow. I slid it out, cut it open with a flick of my wand, and read the note:

_To: Lily_

_From: You will soon find out._

_Day One._

How strange. I frowned and flipped the card over. On the reverse side there was a large, embossed letter 'K' done in metallic red.

I frowned harder. Personally, I preferred the letter 'T', but oh well, to each his own. I carefully set the card on my dresser, then climbed back onto the chair. My head swimming with the possibilities, I gripped the lid of the box and lifted. Breath growing shallow with excitement, I peered in.

I shrieked. The chair beneath me wobbled and fell over, depositing me onto the floor in a rumpled heap. There was a rustling of paper from within the box and then it fell open, each of the sides unwrapping to reveal none other than James Potter in the center, striking what he probably took to be a seductive pose and clad in a frilly black and white French maid's outfit, feather duster and all.

Oh gods. Somebody just shoot me now. I sat there where I had fallen, my face a most unbecoming shade of pink, dimly blessing the soft plush carpet that had cushioned my fall, at a loss for words as I watched James slowly arise and sway to the music that had suddenly materialized.

I felt my temper creep up, and finally, I lost it. "JAMES!" I bellowed, unleashing a full day's worth of anger, "WHAT THE HELL _IS_ THIS?"

He fixed me with what he probably thought was a seductive gaze and purred. "Your present," he replied, batting his fake eyelashes at me.

Damn it. This wasn't helping any. I felt my energy draining. I needed him to shout back at me. How was I supposed to vent my grief if he wouldn't retaliate? I tried again, and my voice came out weak, pathetic.

"What are you bloody _talking_ about?"

He came toward me, still swaying most indecently, brushing me with his ridiculous feather duster and swinging his hips. I glanced down and found myself looking into his cleavage. Oh gods. This just wasn't right.

"James," I growled menacingly, though I felt more desperate than angry now.

James lifted the hem of his skirt and I had to shield my eyes. "This," he murmured huskily, "is your Christmas present."

Oh. Well that explains it. Jolly good.

Damn it. Sarcasm's really not my best thing. I'll have to get Salina to give me a few pointers. Oh wait. Salina had betrayed me by taking part in the bet with James. Crud.

Why the _hell_ couldn't he just have gotten me a nice book or something? Or a box of chocolates? Anything had to be better than this.

"The twelve days of Christmas," James continued, slinking away from me and dancing over to my bed, where he draped himself over it, drawing up a fish-netted leg. "One present for each day." He smiled and ran his tongue over his lips, "On the first day you get me."

I had to admit he had nice legs, especially in those stockings. That didn't abate my temper any, though.

"James," I breathed angrily, "I don't know what the bloody _hell_ you're talking about. Now get out of my room, and leave me alone."

"Are you sure you don't wanna, I dunno, _do_ something with me? After all, I am lying here, on your bed. And if you haven't noticed, Lily, we're very…alone."

That did it. With another shriek (I've been getting good at this), I stomped over to my bed, grabbed his arm, and tried to drag him out of my room. Unfortunately, however, years of Quidditch training and the fact that James was much bigger than me also meant that he was much stronger than me, despite his current feminine appearance, and he immediately took my touching him as an invitation to…oh I dunno, cover my face, neck, and ears with kisses.

He reminds me a lot like a large, over friendly dog, I thought dimly as I tried to stop him from nibbling on my ear. Except, of course, his kisses were a lot nicer. I wonder if he was good at French Kissing.

…Uh oh. Did I just think that? I did _not_ just think that. James began to move closer to my lips, and I began to panic. Serves you right for asking, Lily, I thought desperately. You're about to find out the answer to your question. Maybe that's not such a bad thing.

_No. _In an amazing feat of strength and flexibility I somehow managed to push James off me and out of the door, and then slam it. I sank down against it, heart thudding, onto the nice carpet and closed my eyes.

"Go out with me, Lily?" came James's voice outside the door, thankfully masculine again. I ignored it.

What had happened back there? There were parts of me that had almost wanted him to kiss me. Oh god oh god oh god. I need to see a doctor. I need to see a shrink. I need to see a psychiatrist.

This would be a fine story to tell the grandchildren. "Your grandfather came to me one day dressed in a French Maid's outfit and seduced me with a feather duster."

Wait…there it goes again! What grandchildren? Could the person who ran off with my sanity please return it? I'd be much obliged.

It's then that I fully understood what James had said. Twelve days of Christmas. Twelve days of 'presents'. Twelve days of torture.

Someone save me, quick.

--- --- ---

**(end chapter 1)**

**You should've noticed by now that I have slight trouble with keeping tense when writing in this style. Dammit. Ah well.**

**Please leave a review if you do so feel inclined. I'll get the next chapter up sooner if I get some. Oh, and since I've got a good eleven presents left to go, I'd appreciate some suggestions. Thanks.**

**Read Soul's Rhapsody if you're looking for a fluffier LilyJames fic.**

**And good day!**


	2. The Purple House Elves

**Nov 12 or 13, 2005**

**(If you've been wondering, I put the update date on the beginning of every chapter because I, at least, think it's convenient to know when a story I read has been updated and how often the author usually updates. I wish would do that, but all they put is the last update date and the date published.)**

**A/N:**

**Wow, I have to say I'm elated at the responses I've gotten for this fic. None of my stories have ever been this successful. I almost squealed in happiness. I love you guys, I really do. I'm also glad to see some of the people that reviewed my other stories review this one.**

**ms mary goodnight—Of course there's more, eleven chapter's worth!**

**Dead-Luthien—I _have_ seen that movie. It's quite good. And that's a great idea, I was thinking something along the same lines. I shall probably use it for the next chapter. …Oops. I shouldn't have said that.**

**And thank you to everyone else who reviewed.**

**I was going to alternate between Soul's Rhapsody and this one, really I was, but you guys have made it hard not to want to continue this one first. Shame.**

**So here it is, after a huge case of writer's block:**

**--- --- ---**

**Chapter 2—The Purple House Elves**

_As if the French Maid's uniform wasn't bad enough. One minute I'm helping poor Peter Pettigrew off a chandelier and the next, I find myself holding a pair of Potter's Underwear. What have I become?_

Oh well. I suppose it could be worse. I suppose I should be thankful that at least he didn't wrap himself up and show up on my doorstep dressed in a bikini or something. That would've been bad. And at least the boxers were clean.

It was snowing outside, and so everybody that had opted to stay at Hogwarts for the holidays—and that included James and his friends, unfortunately—were inside the castle playing chess, reading, or, in a certain chubby blond haired boy's case, hanging from his underpants off of a chandelier on the third floor.

As I stood there, looking up at him, I wondered, amidst his cries of "Lily! Help me! I promise I'll never go through your diary again!" how the _hell_ he got up there in the first place. I mean, you would think, after having gone through the horrid ordeal a dozen times already, that he would be more careful around suspended lights.

I don't even have a diary. I learned a long time ago—the hard way, mind you—that Hogwarts is a dangerous place to keep one.

I had to admit, though, that Potter was very insightful. He'd yesterday said that Pettigrew was probably hanging off a chandelier somewhere, and here he was. I would go tell him just how insightful he is, except that I'm not talking to him. I'm afraid that if I do, I'll lose my temper and curse him or something. And we all know how bad that could be. I still wanna see him in his boxers. The ones with the little purple house elves.

So here I am, trying not to stare at Peter's grayish underwear, wondering how I'm supposed to get him down.

You know what would be funny? If I just cast a spell that just severed his undergarments where they were caught. Then I could just run away and say that statue of armor did it.

Hey, it's not entirely unbelievable. Statues of armor are very suspicious, if you ask me. I mean, who knows? Maybe they actually get up and walk around when no one's looking? Can't pin this one on me.

Then I stopped myself. You're head girl Lily, I chided myself, get a grip.

I had just pulled out my wand to help Pettigrew down when none other than Narcissa Black walked by, her signature dark robes swishing most becomingly around her.

"Hello, Mudblood," she drawled as soon as she spotted me, her painted lips drawn up into a cruel smile.

Narcissa is one person I just cannot stand. She's above even Potter and Black on my hate list. Admittingly, _she's _never shown up on my doorstep in a French Maid's outfit, but that's besides the point.

Not that what Potter did last night wasn't bad. I still have the image of his 'bosom' stuck in my mind. Damn it. Maybe I just need some more sleep.

"What are you doing here, Evans?" Narcissa continued, still smiling coldly, "Don't tell me not even your family wants you home." Then she looked up and saw Pettigrew, who had grown silent at her arrival. She gave a ridiculous airy little laugh. "I didn't know you had a thing for Pettigrew"

Oh. That was funny. Yes it was. I'll just go and suck on my toes now.

Damn it. I really should stop trying to be sarcastic. It's not working.

I made an attempt to clear my head. "Bugger off, Black," I spat at her, mentally going through a list of the things I could do to her. Hang _her_ off of a chandelier, for one.

"Oh don't let me stop you guys from doing what you were about to. I'm happy for you, really I am. You're just too cute together." She gave me one last sneer and strided off, to look for her no good boyfriend, no doubt.

I sighed, aimed my wand at Pettigrew, and executed a neat spell, severing his underpants and freeing him from his predicament.

Unfortunately, during my little 'spat' with Narcissa, I had unwittingly placed myself directly beneath the chandelier. Oh crap.

As I lay there beneath Pettigrew, trying to catch my breath and to hurl him off me, I absently wondered where Potter was, and what he would say if he saw us like this. What if he thought there was something between us? Because there certainly wasn't.

Never mind. To hell with what Potter thinks. Let's focus on trying to get Peter off first. He's surprisingly heavy, for someone so short. Damn it. I know his falling on me broke a rib. I just know it. I hope it's not one on my right. That's my good side.

Now, James, on the other hand, would be considerably lighter. If it had been him hanging off the ceiling and him laying on me now…

Oh no. Not again. Damn it. I heaved Pettigrew off me, brushed myself off, and left, ignoring his grateful wails.

Right. Now I was in a bad mood. I stomped down the stairs, through the entrance hall, and out of the gates, plopping myself down on the steps to brood.

It's then that I noticed how cold it is outside. Damn it. I really should think about what I'm doing before I do it. Now not only is the cold making it impossible to plot Potter's death, but it's also freezing me slowly to death.

Did I mention how much I hate Christmas? Because I do. To hell with mistletoe and presents and love. Bah humbug indeed.

Maybe I'll go down to Hagrid's. He's got a new recipe for what he calls rock cakes, he'd said. I bet they're delicious. Yeah, that's what I'll do. I'll go visit Hagrid.

I didn't move.

…And we can chat by his fire.

I watched as a barn owl flew by.

…And have crumpets and tea.

I listened to the distant sound of hooves.

And…Dammit Lily, move your feet!

There I was, all but frozen in place on the steps of the great hall, slowly loosing the feeling in my fingers and toes. What a way to spend the second day of break, eh? I tried to gain enough control of my muscles to turn around and peer into one of the large windows to the Great Hall. Dinner was probably over by now. Maybe I should go in.

Or maybe I should just sit out here and freeze to death for ever thinking about James in an unchaste manner…not that I ever have. I don't care how good his legs look in fish nets. He's still an arrogant, big headed, insensitive, ungrateful, incompetent…

Wow, this is quite fun. I could do this for ages. To hell with the cold. I was having a better time than Lucius Malfoy around hair care products. And that was saying something.

As I sat there happily abusing Potter, the very same barn owl that had flown by earlier swooped down suddenly and dropped what must've been a five ton package on my head.

I jumped up. Holy mother of baked ham! This is a conspiracy! Suddenly that owl didn't look so cute and cuddly. It's all his fault! We should really consider using something else for mail delivery.

I rubbed my head and looked to my right; on the ground lay a small brown package tied with string. It was much bigger a moment ago, I swear! Someone must've leaned out of a window and casted a shrinking charm on it. I craned my neck backwards to check for the culprit, but saw no one. Crud.

I then turned to the parcel in question, examining it and carefully unwrapping it to reveal a piece of parchment.

Wow. I snorted in disgust. Who the hell packages a piece of parchment?

I unfolded the paper and spotted the signature.

_Yours, to have and to hold, till death do we part,_

_Jamesiepoo_

Oh. Well, that explains it. I read the next line:

_Peeves is on the second floor causing trouble. In the Entrance hall is a painting of a witch in crimson. Tell her James sent you._

Wait, what? I shook my head, thoroughly confused. This is what I get for trying to read a letter backwards. Maybe I should just go live with the centaurs now. I really am losing it. Someone call an ambulance and get me to St. Mungo's insanity ward. I hear they give their patients chocolate pudding.

Exhaling, I started at the beginning.

_Lily,_

_Stop sitting on the steps and freezing to death. It's not good for your complexion. If you really want to commit suicide I'd suggest jumping off the astronomy tower. In any case, your next present's waiting for you, if you'd just get yourself up here. I promise you'll like it._

_Yours, to have and to hold, till death do we part,_

_Jamsiepoo._

_PS: Peeves is on the second floor causing trouble. In the Entrance hall is a painting of a witch in crimson. Tell her James sent you._

I snorted. Jamesiepoo indeed. And how the heck did he know I was down here? Great gods, I'm being watched. And by _him_, no less.

I fought down a surge of panic and tried to check my reflection in a muddy puddle. What if he was right about the cold ruining my complexion? Then I wondered why I even cared what he thought.

Because I don't. Why would I? He's just a pompous, well born, thoughtless, coldhearted…

And I spent the next few moments trying to think up as many synonyms as I could for 'arrogant git'.

Then I ran out.

Dammit. I really need to start writing things down.

I stood up, brushed the snow off my lap, and headed in. Not because I cared what James thought or wanted my next present (because I didn't), but because I was afraid that if I spent another minute out there Hagrid would come to the school the next morning to find a cold, Lily shaped icicle on the perched on the steps.

I was right; dinner had ended, and the Entrance hall was empty. Crap. I had really wanted a nice bowl of soup or something. I was about to ascend the steps when I remembered Potter's letter. For a moment I wondered if he was just pulling another one of his infamous pranks, but my curiosity got the better of me. I had to see that painting.

Looking around, I spotted it at once—a golden framed canvas of a beautiful pale skinned witch in a crimson gown. Why hadn't I ever noticed it before?

"Hello," I greeted nervously as I approached her. It couldn't hurt to be polite. Who knows what paintings can do to you in your sleep if you offend them?

The witch glanced up from her embroidery and scanned me haughtily, looking me up and down as if trying to find something wrong with me. She shook her dark curls and lifted a corner of her ruby lips in a cold smile.

"What do you want, girl?" she purred, her voice like honey but infinitely colder.

I scowled, disliking her immediately. After all, I didn't come here to be insulted by a pastel canvas.

"Nevermind," I replied curtly, turning to leave.

She gave a tinkling laugh, and I was reminded most unpleasantly of Narcissa. "So, you disturb my sewing, only to tell me 'nevermind'? Say what you mean, girl, and let's be done with it."

I turned back around.

You're right. I was most rude. Why not I toss you into the fire to show you just how sorry I am?

"Er, Potter told me to find you."

Dammit. I really need to learn to be more assertive.

At my words, the witch's countenance changed at once, and she giggled loudly. "James? He sent you? Oh why didn't you say so? Is he here? _Do_ tell me he's here. He hasn't come to visit me in forever."

I just stood there dumbly, taken aback by her sudden metamorphosis. "Er.." I began stupidly.

"…And Sirius? Remus? Are they here too? Wonderful boys, really they are. So charming." She gave another giggle, then seemed to realize that I was still there.

"I'm sorry girl; I didn't know you were affiliated with them. Here."

And the painting swung forward to reveal a dark corridor.

I fought the urge to gasp. Wow. So this is what Potter was talking about. I climbed in, hunched over, and followed the tunnel, feeling along the walls. Behind me, the witch called out one last time.

"Tell James I said 'hi'! Tell him _Abigail_ said hi."

Damn Potter. What kind of guy flirts with _paintings_? She's not even pretty.

I'm not jealous, really I'm not. Why would I be? She's just a pastel canvas, and all she does is sew every day. I mean, look at her. Potter could never fall in love with something like that.

…Which doesn't mean he can fall in love with me. Because he can't. Because I won't let him. So there.

Five minutes later I emerged into the open again, and found myself on the seventh floor corridor where the Head Dorms and Gryffindor tower were. I gave a low whistle. So this was how Potter and his friends could go seemingly anywhere in only a few minutes. Secret passageways. I have to give them credit; this is ingenious, this is.

I made my way to the statue of the hippogriff guarding the entrance to the Head Dorms, told it the password, and walked in to find Jamesiepoo stretched out on the couch in front of the fire polishing his broomstick.

Wait a second. Where did that come from? I did _not_ just think that. What I _meant_ was that I walked in to find _Potter_ stretched out on the couth in front of the fire, polishing his broomstick. Yes, that's it.

Whew, nice save, Lily.

_Potter_, not Jamesiepoo, looked up as I entered and gave me a grin that was certainly _not_ breathtaking.

"Evening, Lily," he greeted cheerfully and set his Nimbus 1990 carefully on the floor.

"I take it you found Abby alright?"

I scowled. Who cares about Abigail? She's nobody. He was just trying to initiate a conversation, that's all.

"She says 'hi'," I mumbled, pulling off my cloak and hanging it up on the peg by the door.

"Fantastic."

What was fantastic? That I found her or that she said hi?

…Not that it matters.

James pointed to a package on the coffee table, grinning broadly. It was roughly the size of a book, flat and wrapped in green paper that caught the glint of the light from the fire. Despite myself, I began to feel the excitement that always came with receiving a present.

It couldn't be that bad, I said to myself. Nothing could be as bad as last night.

Ugh. I didn't even want to _think_ about last night. Gods.

I threw Potter a glare, just for good measure, in case he thought I actually _liked_ getting this attention, and picked it up. It felt pretty light my hands and I fought the urge to bring it up to my ear and shake it. Trying to keep from smiling in anticipation, I unwrapped the paper and lifted the top. There was a card inside, and I put that in my robe's pocket to read later.

I reached in and lifted out whatever was inside. It was some sort of fabric, cotton, perhaps, and very soft and nice feeling.

Then I saw the little purple house elves printed on the surface.

Strangely enough, the first thought that came to my mind as it unfolded and confirmed itself to be, indeed, a pair of Potter's boxers, was not how utterly disgusting and _filthy_ this was. Instead, as I stood there, holding the offending article of clothing, I wondered, before anything else crossed my mind, that, if they had such wide legs, was it possible to look up Potter's boxers the way one looks up a girl's skirt?

Then it hit me. Potter's boxers. In my hands. Gods, this was disgusting. I leapt about three feet into the air and almost dropped my wand.

"POTTER!" I yelled, "What the bloody hell is this?"

He just sat there, looking confused. "You told me yesterday that they were your favorite pair. I thought I'd just _give_ them to you and save you the trouble of denying me so that you could see me run around in them."

I snarled at him. "I don't _want_ your dirty underwear, Potter."

"They're washed."

Oh, well that makes it _so_ much better. Congratulations, Potter, at least you take care of your undergarments.

"I don't care if they're bloody _dry cleaned,_"I growled, Get them away from me."

Then I realized that I still held the boxers in my hand. Way to make a point, Lily. Good job.

…That was sarcasm, by the way.

I hurled them at Potter's annoying face and they landed perfectly. Wow. My aim was really improving. Maybe I should consider trying out for reserve chaser.

James peeled the boxers off his face and gave me a hurt look. "I thought you would like it." he muttered. Then he brightened. "Would you rather I dress up in a thong?"

That did it. I did _not_ want to see James in a thong. That'd be just wrong.

I opened my mouth to tell him to bugger off.

"I WOULD RATHER SEE _SLUGHORN_ IN A THONG, POTTER!" I bellowed at him, then stopped as I realized what I had just said.

Oh wow. Oh crap. Oh holy soup cans. I did _not_ just say that. I did not.

Which, of course, meant that I had. I promptly turned a nice shade of pink. Potter was staring at me, jaw slack, making me feel very self conscious indeed. There was silence within the room while we both stared at each other, then James regained his composure.

"Wow, Evans…" he began, before breaking out into a huge grin.

I stood there, my eyes wide, then grabbed my gift from his startled grasp, turned on my heel, walked into my room, and slammed the door, pulling out my wand and locking it firmly.

_Dammit!_ I can't believe I said that. Gods. I fought back a wave a nausea as an image of the fat, balding potions professor clad in nothing but a pink silk thong swam through my mind and was glad I had missed dinner. It's all Potter's fault. _Why_ couldn't he just leave me alone?

Was it too late to transfer to Beauxbatons? I heard they have a nice healer curriculum there.

--- --- ---

**I _hope_ it was funny. Somehow it didn't seem it was as much as the first chapter. Ah well. **

**The first half was _crap_ to write, and it probably shows, too. I shouldn't have made Lily's friends gone for the holiday, now I'm stuck making up things for her to do all day. Damn.**

**If I can take five hours to update, you can take five minutes to review. It makes my day. Please and thank you. X)**

**Oh, and by the way, did JK ever mention anywhere in her books that James had glasses? I don't remember. In any case, the James in my story doesn't. Just doesn't fit him, I suppose. /**


	3. The Serenade

**A/N:**

**Once again, thank you to all my reviewers so very very much. I'd do a little jig, but I'd probably break something in the process.**

**Thank you to laika, Ghostwriter626, I'll Open Your Book, J.E.A.R.K.Potter, and Heaven and Earth for asserting that James does, indeed, wear glasses. Damn it. I had so hoped he didn't. I think what I'll do is go on writing the fic with no mention at all of his glasses (but also not mentioning that he doesn't have any) and you guys can go on picturing him whichever way pleases you. Which, in my case, would be without glasses, but to each his own.**

**dweem-angel—You're the only one who commented on that, I'm surprised. But she did run off with his boxers, didn't she? Now what does that tell you, eh? ;)**

**Dead-Luthien—That's an interesting scenario. I might incorporate it somewhere, but it wouldn't be a 'present', because, well, it really isn't, is it? xD**

**Oh, and before I forget, I'd be much obliged if one of my readers would offer to take a look at something I wrote this week and give me some constructive criticism and tell me if it's worth submitting as a fanfiction. It's a short (or not so short) HarryGinny oneshot with no real HarryGinny moments. You'll see what I mean. Thank you so very very much.**

**And to everyone else, be on the lookout for that fic, because I'll be most likely posting it either case. It'll be titled "Ginny, I love you." Corny name, I know, but what can I say?**

**--- --- ---**

**Chapter 3—The Serenade.**

_One thing I'll admit about Potter, he does has a nice voice. If only he would use it for something other than trying to seduce me. …Not that I was seduced._

I was sitting at the most secluded desk I could find in the library so as to avoid the accusatory glares of Madam Pince, the librarian. I didn't even actually have anything to feel guilty about. Lily Marie Evans is completely innocent. Yes she is.

Pince's eyes can do that to a person, though. I have no idea how she manages it. I mean, if my eyes could do that, then maybe the Head Girl badge on my robes wouldn't be completely wasted.

Of course, I haven't been _entirely_ traitorous to my title, no. That would be Potter. How the heck did he even become Head Boy in the first place? I mean, sure, he is top in his classes, but come on, not even a troll would call him responsible.

…Although I have been acquainted with some especially stupid trolls.

…And although James does have exceptionally good taste in undergarments.

Crud, there it goes again. I swear, someone must've installed a device or something in my brain, the way it keeps straying off to topics I would certainly never think about. Yes, that's it. Whoever's in there, I know who you are! Or, no, I don't know, but I'll find out! Er…someday.

Dammit, this isn't working. Maybe if I ask nicely.

Please, little voice-entity-device-ish-ness…thing…leave me alone _please_?

…That may have worked. Except I still think Potter has nice legs. Crud. Gods I hate that little voice thing. It's all its fault that I keep visualizing James in his boxers.

…And that I actually took said boxers from him last night before I stormed off.

James will never let me live that down—that I accepted his underwear. He'll torture me about it forever. And ever. Until I'm old and gray and bouncing grandchildren on my knees.

Not that those grandchildren will also be his grandchildren. Because that would mean…I (or at least the part of me that still belonged to myself) didn't even want to think about what that would mean.

The way I saw it, I had three options if I still wanted to keep my dignity:

Option A: Pack myself in a box _with air holes_ and ship myself off to…I dunno, Scandinavia or something. I could build myself a nice little goat hut in the mountains and live off apple pie. Holy icebergs do I love apple pie.

Then again, do apples even grow in Scandinavia? Does _anything_ even grow in Scandinavia?

Right. We'll scratch that idea then.

Option B: perform a memory charm on James so that he'll forget everything that happened last night. Or everything that happened _ever_, I'm not picky about how much I scar him. Granted, I have no idea how go about doing a memory charm, but I'm sure I can figure it out while I'm in the snowy wilderness of Scandinavia.

…But I'm not going to Scandinavia, am I? Crud.

So, I'm left with Option C: Kill James.

Oh this will be easy. I can push him into the lake and say someone else did it. I can force feed him poison and hide in a broom closet to watch as the nearest first year is blamed. I can chain him to the bed and…

Er, let's just go with the poison.

I was looking around for a copy of _Advanced Potion Making_ (you didn't think I was lying about poisoning him, did you?) when the door opened, and an extremely haggard looking Remus Lupin strolled in.

I like Remus, really I do. Good guy he is. If it hadn't been for James and Sirius, we'd probably be good friends by now. I had some mixed feelings about the guy but we were generally on good terms, so I gave him a friendly smile. Maybe he could help me poison James. Heh.

"Hello, Lily," Remus greeted as he took a seat across from me.

Oh, so he wanted to have a conversation, eh? I'll give him a conversation. I'll astound him with my conversational skills, I will.

"Morning, Remus. How are you?"

Um…that didn't count. I was just warming up. I was just a bit rusty from two days with nothing meaningful to talk to.

Except James and his boxers, of course.

…Not that I ever talked to his boxers. I meant it hypothetically. Yes.

Fortunately, Remus hadn't noticed my little bout of anxiety. He had glanced out the window at the sky at my question, and was now looking at it worriedly.

Hmm. Strange fellow. He looked like he needed some sleep. We sat there in silence for a few moments, and then he turned back to me.

"So how've you been?" he said quite cheerfully.

Wait a second. He didn't even answer my question. How rude. How thoughtless. How…un-nice! Forget about asking him to help poison James; I'll do it myself. Hmph!

I gave Remus a shrug (because he didn't deserve any better) and returned to flipping through the textbook.

After a moment, he spoke again, and this time his voice was tinged with amusement. "James keeping you busy, eh?" he questioned, grinning.

_No_, he was certainly _not_ keeping me busy. He was an arrogant pompous prat who didn't deserve my attention.

"I suppose," I replied, shrugging again.

Dammit. Say what you mean Lily.

I really should've gone home for the winter break. But no, I just _had_ to stay and get tortured by Potter and now Lupin too. Life was too good to me, really it was.

Remus shot me a sly smile. "James told me you liked his boxers yesterday. He said you grabbed them and ran away all excited-like."

I was had _not_ been excited-like! I'd just had a spontaneous reaction after what I'd said about Slughorn. …Which I'm _not_ repeating by the way, so there.

"I wasn't excited," I huffed angrily, "it was a reflex."

He smiled at me like he didn't believe me. Dammit. Maybe if I put on an innocent face. How does James do it again? He kind of pulls the corners of his lips down and lift his eyebrows. Yeah, that's it. I'll do that.

I tried to bring the corners of my mouth down and my eyebrows up but it must've come out more like a grimace because Remus looked concerned and a little bit scared.

"Um…Lily?" he said hesitantly, "Are you alright?"

Nodding frantically, I scrunched up my nose.

No wait! No nose scrunching! That doesn't say 'innocent.' I tried to straighten my face again and found that I had lost whatever expression of innocence I had achieved. Crud.

By this time I must have begun to look as if I was badly constipated because Remus had a scared look on his face and was beginning to stand up. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny box wrapped in silver paper.

"Er, Listen Lily," he said, looking at me nervously, "James told me to give this to you. Said he didn't want to risk castration."

And so saying, he deposited the box in my lap and dashed out of the library.

I sat there, struck dumb, for a few moments and then I shrugged. So what if I didn't manage to pull the innocent look off? Not everyone can have Potter's…er…his un-prowess.

Er…I'll just pretend that makes sense and we can all go on our jolly ways.

It was then that I realized I was still holding the box that Remus had given me. The attached card read:

_To: Lily_

_From: Jamesiepoo_

_Day Three._

Flipping it over, I saw a nicely engraved and embellished letter "Y" on the back. Interesting.

Carefully setting the small box on the table in front of me (I didn't want to risk touching it if I could help it) I pulled out my wand and muttered a severing charm. The wrapping paper removed itself conveniently and I was left staring at a tiny figurine of a stag.

Oh. A stag. How…nice.

I wasn't disappointed, really I wasn't. Who would think that? No one, that's who, because no one would have reason to assume that I was. Because I wasn't. No, not me. Not Lily Evans. Not…

Er, I should stop now.

Really, it wasn't a bad gift, and it was pretty cute. Regal I mean. Stags aren't cute. They're regal. That's it. And it was decent craftsmanship. It would look nice on my dresser or something like that. I decided I liked this gift.

Then I changed my mind.

Because just as I reached out to touch it, there was a loud pop and the air in front of me filled with a musky purple smoke.

Oh my _gawd_. I quickly fanned my hands wildly (looking very much like a bad imitation of a windmill, I'm sure) to try to dissipate as much of the smoke as I could, looking hurriedly around to see if anyone had heard the pop. A few had glanced my way. It wasn't me, it wasn't me! I was just sitting here and reading, I swear!

It was then that I looked down and spotted the real object of speculation.

A dwarf was standing calmly beside my chair, waiting patiently for me to look down.

Holy hippogriff dung! What was a _dwarf_ doing here in the library? And why was it looking at _me_? I swear I didn't have anything to do with the smoke! Well, except touch the stag that had probably set it off, but that's besides the point. I'm innocent, it's James you want!

The dwarf gave a neat little bow and peered at me with his (I judged he was a male from the fact that he had a beard) beady little eyes.

"Lily Evans?" he said in a raspy and none too happy voice.

"Er…Yes."

"Pleased to meet you, miss. I be Odgen"

Odgen. That's such a nice name. And did I mention you're looking quite lovely this, er, morning? That red coat goes so nicely with your complexion, and might I ask, have you lost weight?

…Oh please don't take me away. I'll be good, I promise!

Before I could voice any of my thoughts, however, I was interrupted by a loud screeching.

Ahh! Oh crap. The world is ending! The sky is falling and the dead is rising and the clouds are…erm…not being clouds! Someone save me!

Then I looked at Odgen. He was singing. And apparently the source of the most unpleasant noise.

Oh. A singing dwarf. Oh, well that's okay then. That's just peachy. That's so much better, and while you're at it, why not just rip out my ear drums and use them for Quidditch practice why don't you?

Odgen was _singing. Odgen _was singing. Odgen _was_ singing. Great, just great. I was turning a bright shade of pink, and might I add, the entire library was staring at me now.

_Lily, my Lily _(he sang)

_You are my one and only,_

_Your eyes are bowls of jelly,_

_And my love is far from silly._

_Lily, my Lily, _

_The mountains may be hilly,_

_And the weeds grow willy nilly,_

_I'll serenade you with my quill-y_

And so it went for stanzas seemingly endlessly. James—for he was definitely the one behind this—must've have racked his brains for words that rhymed with "Lily". I admired his perseverance but decided then and there that he had no future in songwriting.

Let me tell you one thing, though: dwarves don't make good singers. And there's just something fundamentally wrong with having a two foot tall little…_bastard_ compare your eyes to twin bowls of quivery gelatinous confections.

I wanted to _die_.

No, I'd better rephrase that. I wanted _James_ to die.

But unfortunately I was in no position to make _anyone_ die at the moment. No, instead, and thanks to my dear Jamesiepoo, I had the entire library ogling me and little Romeo here and probably half the school on their way to see what the ruckus was about.

"Um…" I said, raising my voice so as to be heard above the din, "Odgen? T-That was very nice, but, er, would you mind stopping?"

_I'd put on something frilly,_

_If only I could touch my Lily._

"Er, thank you Odgen. I got the message." I pleaded, trying to hush him, "stop now, please?"

_Lily sings quite well-y,_

_Her voice is like a bell-y._

"Odgen—"

_And I'd feel quite swell-y,_

_Like a farmer in the dell-y_

"Dammit Odgen, SHUT UP!"

And I grabbed the nearest object I could find (Advanced Potions Making) and hurled it at him with all my strength. It hit him squarely in the chest and he promptly tumbled backwards amidst startled gasps from our spectators.

Oops. Um…I didn't do that. I did not just abuse a not-so-innocent little dwarf. Really I didn't. My hand slipped and I accidentally dropped the book on him, that's it. Please don't be dead Odgen, I didn't mean what I said.

Fortunately, he sat up after a brief silence, rubbing his chest where the book had landed, fixing me with an accusatory glare.

"Oh, I'm so sorry Odgen," I apologized, leaping out of my seat and hurrying to aid him, but he jumped up and brushed aside my hands. He seemed considerably more annoyed, and I didn't blame him a bit.

"Oi'm sorry Miss but 'Oi've been paid to sing to you and Oi intend ta do my job," he said.

And he promptly burst into song again.

Arrgh! You'd think a ten pound potions book in the chest would be enough to stop the little bugger! But no, there he was, singing in his same raspy voice, and, to my horror, doing a little jig to match.

"Miss!" shouted someone over the song, and I turned toward the source of the call. It was Madam Pince, and I don't think I've ever seen her so furious. She rushed over, wand out.

"Miss Evans!" she hissed indignantly, her face turning a nice shade of maroon, "How _dare_ you cause such a disturbance?"

"But, Madam Pince, it wasn't me!" I hurried to explain.

"I don't care if it was Rudolph the Red Nosed _Reindeer_," she raged, "I want you _out!_"

"But—"

Madam Pince pointed a bony finger at the door. "Out. Now!"

Fine. Have it that way. I didn't want to be here in the first place. Clenching my teeth, I scooped up my bags and flounced out the door, Odgen and the sound of laughter following in my wake.

Once safely out of earshot from the library (though I doubted we'd ever be out of earshot, what with Odgen's wailing) I turned to look him squarely in the face.

"Look, Odgen," I began as patiently as I could, amidst cries of _Lily, my Lily_, "I'm sure you've done enough to earn whatever James is paying you. Now would you kindly leave me alone and go sing to someone else?"

He just continued singing, heedless of my words, and I groaned—although I'm sure no one heard me over the din—and spun on my heel toward the Head Doms.

Oh, James was in trouble. He was gonna get it. There was no way I'd forgive him this time. I had half a mind to stuff _him_ into a box and mail _him_ to Scandinavia, the way I was currently feeling. One way or another, there will be pain.

Hmm…"there will be pain"…That sounded very much like something a comic book villain would say. Maybe I should go audition for a play or something. I could go on tour to America and Wales and…oh who cares about Whales? I'd go to Italy and Japan and…Ahem.

"Tarangetella," I shouted over Odgen's singing as soon as I reached the Head Dorms, and the stone hippogriff swung open to admit me.

Unfortunately, the first thing I noticed when I stepped inside was that James was not there, although the place was littered with confetti and holly wreaths. It looked like someone had been trying to decorate and had failed miserably.

I peered in James' room. Nothing. The bathroom. Nothing. _My _bedroom. Still nothing. I was beginning to lose my temper.

"JAMES!" I screeched as loudly as I could, hoping that he'd take my cry of anger as a cry of distress and rush to my side. …Not that I admitted that he actually _would_ rush to my side if I were in distress. Because then I would be in more distress. And then there would be distress added onto distress and then where would I be?

I looked desperately around myself and tried to stop myself from grabbing Odgen and stuffing him into the fireplace. Really, it was highly convenient, and the house elves never clean in there anyways. By the time he was found, I'd probably have graduated. It wasn't a bad idea.

Okay, Lily, calm down. I took a deep breath and tried to imagine myself at the beach. Dying prematurely from stress just _couldn't_ be a good thing. Dying prematurely from getting your eardrums ripped out and practically stomped on couldn't be a good thing either.

So. If James wasn't in the Head Dorms, he was probably off practicing Quidditch. Then again, his entire team was off for the holidays. We'll scratch that possibility then.

Maybe he was in the kitchens getting something to eat. Gods knew that boy had a hell of an appetite. Or maybe he was serving detention for something or the other, or…snogging some Ravenclaw in an empty broom closet somewhere.

No. Definitely not. He can't be. I felt slightly numb and dizzy all of a sudden.

…It was the singing, that did it, that's it. I certainly didn't care if Potter was groping some witch in the corridors. It wasn't of my concern. So he'd asked me out every day the last two years, that didn't mean I had any _claim_ on him. Because I didn't.

And so what? It's not like I wanted to have some sort of claim on him. I was just worried about that hypothetical witch that he could be snogging. Does she know how many germs can be living inside the human mouth? It's a disgusting place, really. Not that I would know.

Dammit, Lily, pull yourself together. What happened to the clever little girl you used to be? Stupid James, it was all his fault.

I spent the next twenty minutes searching the school and grounds frantically for Potter, pulling scared looking first years aside to ask if they had seen him and—much to my embarrassment—checking every broom closet or nook I could find. I did happen to see Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Black together in a fourth floor overhanging doing some very, er, interesting things to one another (and I had to scourgify my eyeballs twice afterwards), but there was no sign of Potter.

Needless to say, Odgen's screeching was starting a headache and I was becoming desperate. The way he was carrying on, I was surprised the entire castle didn't come running to see which unfortunate cat was being tortured to death.

Then, after the twenty-first verse of _Lily, my Lily_, it came to me. The Gryffindor common room. Duh, Lily, what the hell's wrong with you that you didn't even think of that?

Gods I'm helpless. I exited the greenhouse (Greenhouse!) I was searching and made my way up to Gryffindor tower.

I'm sure James heard me even before I'd mounted the steps, the way Odgen was carrying on, but if he had, he did a very good job of acting surprised when I flung open the portrait hole and climbed in, nearly running over a frightened looking second year as I did so.

"POTTER!" I called as the poor girl, a rather chubby blonde, scurried hurriedly away.

He was sitting on a red sofa across from Sirius Black, and was currently engaged in a wizard's chess match with said best friend. He was losing. Quite badly.

James made quite a show of looking around to try and spot the source of the cry before looking at me, smiling, and greeting me with a cheerful, "Hey, Lily, what's up?"

I tried to keep myself from springing on him, the prat. It was his fault I was currently being stalked by a two feet monster with a terrible set of vocals.

No, let me say that again: A _terrible_ set of vocals.

I gestured frantically at Odgen, trying not to look too disheveled and flustered. "Potter," I shouted, "Get him _away_ from me!"

"What?" he mouthed, pointing to his ear and shaking his head in earnest.

I pointed to Odgen. "Get him away from me!"

"What?"

"Make him stop!"

"What?"

Okay. There was only so much a girl could take. The rest of the people in the common room were past staring now, they were _ogling_ me, trying to keep the smirks off their faces and failing. Sirius was laughing uncontrollably and James was grinning like a madman.

Don't lose it, Lily, I told myself, the last thing you want is to cause a scene.

I pointed at Odgen. Then I pantomimed singing as best I could, opening and closing my fingers as an imitation of a mouth. I pointed at James, then swung my arms in what I hoped was an unmistakable gesture of "Stop".

James, however, just stared at me confusedly for a few moments before mouthing the words "I can't hear you." He then held up a hand and suddenly the room was filled with utter, complete, _glorious_ silence.

…The _bastard! _He'd known what I was trying to say all along! He was just trying to provoke me! …And doing a good job of it.

"Odgen, that'll be all for today, thank you." Potter said politely, pulling out a handful of coins.

The dwarf bowed grumpily, held out his hand for his payment, and was gone in a spurt of purple smoke. I stared at where he had been, stunned.

"So," James said as soon as the smoke had cleared, "There was something you wanted to tell me, Lily?"

My mouth opened and closed in what I'm sure was a fair imitation of a fish. "You…He…What…" I stuttered, then gave up and slumped onto the couch beside him, ignoring the jeers and snide remarks from the various stragglers still in the Common Room.

"So you enjoyed Odgen's little performance, eh?"

I blinked, then regained some of my composure. Was he _kidding _me? How would he like to be serenaded by a little As…Asterisk?

"Leave me alone, Potter," I muttered, which I admit wasn't quite fair, because I was the one that had searched him out in the first place, but what can I say? He deserved it.

James had the decency to look mildly confused, and his best friend piped up. "I don't think she liked it, Pr—James," Sirius said with a look of mock concern.

"I don't think she liked it either, Sirius."

"But don't feel sorry for yourself. I think you can still salvage this."

They were both grinning widely now. "There is?" Potter said, turning to look Black, "Do tell me."

Sirius pretended to pat his friend comfortingly on the shoulder. "Why James, I was thinking along the lines of…let's say…_you _singing to her instead."

At this, my heart skipped a beat. James? Singing to me? Gods no. No no nononono. Somebody _save_ me. I sat up, but James had already turned to me, looking plaintive.

"Do you want me to sing to you, Lily?" he asked, while Black grinned behind him, "Would you like that?"

"Er, no, Potter, I—"

But James had already opened his mouth.

---

"…And that's how I found them, Headmaster. Head Boy and Girl, too. I've never seen anything of the like!" Professor McGonagall managed somehow to encompass both James and I in the same glare as she finished, then turned to look at Dumbledore for his judgment.

The Headmaster looked at James and I, who were sitting in velvet armchairs in front of his desk, both looking extremely disheveled, though James looked a good deal calmer than I did. Which…made sense, seeing as how, what with the hundreds of times he'd gotten in trouble over the years, being sent to the Headmaster's office was probably nothing new to him.

I, however, was mortified, terrified, petrified, and all the other "-fied" words that bore some sort of semblance to "scared."

Don't kill me, I thought plaintively, I'll never do it again! I can't help it if Potter is such a great git sometimes. I can't help it if Odgen sings like a banshee. You cant expel me, I'll do anything!

The headmaster, however, merely smiled slightly. "I apologize, Minerva," he said calmly, "I wasn't paying attention. Tell me again why you brought them in here?"

McGonagall looked somewhat taken aback. "Mr. Potter here," she nodded at him severely, "was causing a disturbance. He was singing, no less, and, er, making some very inappropriate bodily gestures to boot."

"Miss Evans, on the other hand"—she fixed me with a glare—"thought it would be amusing to give Mr. Potter the complexion of a—if you don't mind me saying so—a _hag_."

Er, well, it was the only spell on hand that didn't involve a whole lot of complicated wand movements. And you had to admit James did look better this way.

Well…no, he didn't. He looked better the way he looked normally. Which didn't mean that he normally looked good. It's entirely possible to look better without looking good in the first place.

Er, I mean…nevermind.

"Headmaster, Professor," I began desperately, "I didn't mean to—The jinx just slipped out—There wasn't anything I could…" I trailed off. Damn I sounded pathetic.

Professor Dumbledore ignored my little outburst and turned to examine James, his eyes twinkling with—could it be?—amusement.

"Interesting," he commented lightly, peering at one of the warts I'd given Potter. He turned to me. "Very nice jinx-work, there, Miss Evans."

"Er…thank you?" I stuttered, surprised at his remark. Nice jinx work? What did that mean? That could be a code name for anything! Oh gods I'm going to die!

"Headmaster…" Professor McGonagall said warningly, raising a thin eyebrow.

The headmaster smiled. "Oh, right you are Minerva, do forgive me." He turned to James and me. "I hope you two have released you anger and are ready to be my example-setting Head Boy and Girl again?" he asked of us, although his eyes still twinkled merrily.

To my right, James grinned and put his right hand up to his forehead in a ridiculous looking salute. "Yes, SIR!"

Despite myself, I rolled my eyes. I mean, seriously, here he was, covered in warts and his lip bleeding slightly, saluting the Headmaster for all he was worth. Honestly, I don't think I'll ever be able to understand how this boy's mind works.

…Which is a good thing.

"Good." Dumbledore smiled. "Now, as I'm sure you've gathered, it is Christmas, and it would be uncivil for me to punish you during this happy occasion." He held up a hand to forestall McGonagall's argument, and continued. "I will, however, ask a favor from you."

"Yes sir!" James asserted, but I simply sat there numbly, remembering the last favor I did for a professor. Images of Slughorn swam through my mind and I had to shake my head to keep from retching.

The Headmaster beamed. "Marvelous." He pried open a silver tin and offered it to us.

"Sugarplum?"

I looked at the candied confections he was offering to James and me, and began to think that our Headmaster was losing his mind. "Er, no thanks, Professor," I mumbled.

He took back the tin and carefully chose a large sweetmeat, popping it into his mouth and beaming at us. "The favor I ask is quite simple," Dumbledore told us. "You see, I simply adore lemon drops—a muggle sweet--but seem to have exhausted my last supply during this past week."

I pretended that this had something to do with us. Frankly, I had no idea why Dumbledore was telling James and me this, but by this time I didn't really care anymore. My throat was sore from shouting so much and I think I was severely bruised from launching myself savagely at James on multiple occasions. Needless to say, I just wanted to rest.

"As I am quite busy this time of year, what with caroling and attending Christmas gatherings," Dumbledore continued, "I have had no time to replenish my store of them. And so the favor I ask, Mr. Potter and Miss Evans, is for the two of you to take the train to Essex tomorrow and purchase some more. I will, of course, be providing the money."

By this time, all of us (and this included the various paintings on the walls) were staring at the Professor as though he were mad…and he probably was. McGonagall recovered first.

"But Headmaster," she said hesitantly, "Surely you can just conjure some up..."

The Headmaster only brushed off this idea. "I can never manage to conjure ones _quite_ like the ones they make in Essex," he replied.

Wait, was that a wink? That _was_ a wink. Why was he winking at us? Do I have something on my face?

And, as I was sitting there feeling my face for any foreign substance, looking quite stupid by the way, the Headmaster was giving Potter the directions to the small sweets shop in Essex we were to travel to tomorrow, and before I knew it, James and I were walking back to the Head Dorms along the now dark corridors.

He turned to me when we reached the hippogriff statue and grinned. I began to feel slightly out of breath.

"So, tomorrow, Lily?" James said, muttering the password.

I blinked, then realized he was waiting for my reply. "Er, right," I replied stupidly, feeling that any other answer would've been better than the one I had chosen. Crud.

"Great!" he remarked, then turned around and began to walk away.

"Where are you going?" I called after him, surprised. There had better not really be some girl he was secretly snogging. Because if there was, I'd be very…er, _not_ unhappy.

James turned around. "I know you like a guy who can embrace his feminine side," he called to me, "but these warts are just too much. The ones on my face are alright, but…the other ones are quite uncomfortable."

"Er…"

"I'm going to the Hospital Wing to get them removed, but if it'll make you feel better, I'll wear a dress tomorrow."

And he disappeared down the corridor, leaving me feeling quite alone and trying desperately not to wonder what he meant by "the other ones."

**--- --- ---**

**Oh. My. Gawds. This chapter is so freaking long! I got to six pages and realized that "Oh crud, I'm not even halfway done." Thirteen pages on MS word, it's the longest thing (fanfic or not) I've ever written. I can't admit it wasn't fun to write, though, because believe me, it was. Just…think of it as a Thanksgiving treat!**

**If you're happy and you know it clap your hands! **

**(and leave a review saying "Test tubes? What test tubes?" Um, it's an inside joke, is all I can say.)**

**And thank you much. :)**


	4. The Pendant

**Dec 4, 2005**

**A/N:**

**Hokay. Here we go.**

**I know it's been a while, and some of you have written me telling me so, and for that I apologize. I've been busy over this winter break and I have finals coming up so don't expect anything better. I will keep continuing the story, however, so no worries.**

**Here's to another achingly long chapter:**

**(It starts out a bit dull but gets better, I promise)**

**--- **

**Chpt 4--The Pendant**

_As if James' horrendous singing wasn't bad enough. I don't even want to _think_ about what happened today. Happy holidays indeed._

When I woke up this morning the first thing I did was check my pulse. Then I swallowed as hard as I could to check for a sore throat. After that I tested all my limbs for proper functioning. And finally, I examined every inch of my body to look for even a minor bruise. Nothing.

I was perfectly healthy. Damn. There was nothing I could do to get out of going to Essex today….Unless I jumped off a cliff, which, in my situation, didn't seem so particularly uninviting.

Since I had chosen to sleep in the dormitories last night I once again encountered the frosty floorboards when I swung my (perfectly functional) legs out of bed reluctantly. When the shock of the cold ground wore off, I tottered off to washroom, grumbling grumpily for effect.

About an hour later I was huddled next to James on the Hogwarts Express, speeding towards London at who cares how many miles per hour. Beside me, Potter was humming what sounded suspiciously like "Lily, My Lily." He was now completely wart free.

…That is, he was wart free on his face. I'd never checked the other, er…places, and I didn't particularly want to.

"Shut up, James," I murmured more to myself than to him, but he heard me.

"I'm just spreading a little Christmas cheer."

I just scoffed and turned to the window.

"Do you want me to tell you a story, Lily?" James asked after a while.

"Bugger off Potter." I wasn't in the mood for stories.

But of course, he continued on like he hadn't heard me. "Once upon a time there was a princess who lived high up in a castle in the sky. She was stunningly beautiful, with crystal blue eyes and a perfect smile, and all the young men wanted to be the one to wed her."

Despite my earlier surliness, I actually burst out laughing at that. And I had thought James was highly unconventional. If I had a knut for every story that began like that...well, I wont go there, I don't need to be depressed further.

James, however, remained unperturbed by my sudden outburst.

"This princess," he continued, "only had eyes for one man, but sadly, the young man she loved was the only one in the kingdom who didn't love her back. She tried everything to woo him, dressing up nicely, showering him with presents—"

"James," I interrupted, "You're insane."

He gave me a crooked smile that was absolutely _not _breathtaking (it was made him look a bit like a hyena). "So I've heard," he replied nonchalantly, "Anyway, this princess, she—"

"Stop it James."

"—Finally got so frustrated by her failed attempts to win his heart that she decided to try something drastic, and—"

"Gods, James, this is ridiculous."

And it was. I mean, I had better things to do than to listen to some dumb story. Or…actually, I didn't. But there was no way in Hell I was going to admit that.

James exhaled in frustration. "Dammit Lily," he exclaimed in what definitely was _not_ a manly way, "If you would stop interrupting for just half a second I could finish the story!"

Well, now, that was a bit exaggerated, wouldn't you think? I have certainly allotted him quite a lot of time for his "story", and self proclaimed 'fast as lightning' seeker or not, there was no way he could finish it in half a second. I was just about to open my mouth to tell him so when he spoke again:

"If you would just _listen_ you'd see that it actually has some relevance to—"

I actually let out a sort of a snort at this. "Really, James," I said, raising an eyebrow, "I suppose the princess is actually me and the young man is you?" He was just too predictable, that James Potter. To the point where I bet I can guess what he's about to say next, something on the lines of "Why, yes, Lily, how did you know?"

Apparently, I was wrong.

"Well, no," he replied sort of quietly, which is strange, for him, "I was going to say that the princess is _me_ and the young man is _you,_ and…"

I didn't hear the rest of what he said, because by that time, I was laughing so hard that my laughter was drowning out the noise of the _engine_, let alone whatever James was saying. If there was a medal for dying from laughter, I was already half way there.

Seriously. Here I was, here I was, picturing James (the self proclaimed manliest man in the school…who could probably out-man Santa Claus, whom we all know is _the_ macho man)…here I was, picturing him in a pink frilly dress.

…Well, that and a corset, but I didn't really want to go there. I really didn't want to see him again the way that I'd seen him two days ago. Gods.

"Merlin, Potter," I managed to get out between giggles—and I was really giggling like a little girl at this point, I'm ashamed to admit—"that has got to be the most ridiculous thing anyone has ever said to me."

Well, no, that was a bit unfair (last year Allison Kraut told me that American Muggle children enjoy watching a yellow rectangular bath sponge parade about on the television), but what James just said was definitely among that top five.

James actually looked a bit hurt for a moment, then broke out into a large grin and gave a little bow. How he managed to do so sitting down I don't know, but manage it he did. I scoffed again, certainly not impressed by his little gesture, and turned to the window.

---

By the time we reached London station, I was feeling decidedly hungry. Breakfast had been a slice of toast and a swig of pumpkin juice, and I needed my nourishment. The nice lady that always pushed the trolley of sweets on the Hogwarts Express had been frustratingly absent. I wondered where she could be.

Pfft, off soaking up the sun in the Caribbean, no doubt. Or exploring the ruins of Stonehenge. Or maybe she was off starting a new chain of lotion and skin care products. Seriously, how could she? Leaving her post and letting us all go hungry? What has the world come to?

I decided then and there that the next time I saw that lady I would be sure to give her a firm talking to, complete with finger wagging and the threat that if she ever left us again she would receive a nice bucket of sludge overturned upon her. That would show her.

James and I exited the station, keeping our eyes on our feet and trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, lest we draw attention to ourselves in any way. It's not everyday that two strange teenagers materialize through solid wall as if it were made from taffy.

…Okay, I admit, taffy is a poor—sorry, terrible—example, but what could I say? If I had had any imagination to begin with, it would have gone on strike form the sheer lack of sustenance.

I glanced to my left and spotted a small kiosk, complete with a sop machine and candy bar display. My mouth began to water immediately and I reached my hands into my pockets to rummage for some spare change, but no luck; all I had was a couple knuts, the bat's eye I had stuffed into there last week in Potions, and a sickle. I could just imagine the stares I would receive if I tried to pay the kiosk clerk with those.

Hmm…I thought as I fingered my wand in my coat pocket. I could conjure up a sandwich or two indiscreetly and no unsuspecting muggle would see and thus end up having their memory of the last two and a half hours obliviated.

Yes, I'll show them how indiscreet I can be. I'm the master—er, mistress—of indiscreetness, and someday I will be able to publish a book on the arts of conjuring up sandwiches while walking through a crowded London train station. I'll title it "The Arts of Conjuring up a Sandwich While Walking Through a Crowded London Train Station" and someday I'll be rich and famous.

I gripped my wand with my left hand (it was a pity that it was in my left pocket because I was right handed), looked quickly around me to check if anyone was looking my way, and executed a quick spell, feeling quite smug.

In fact, I was two seconds away from cheering in glee when a jet of yellow light whizzed out from my wand pocket, and up through the crowd, nearly missing the bald plate of a middle aged man and struck the shelves behind the hapless kiosk clerk, burying him under a pile of magazines.

I stared. What else would I have done in such a situation? I had gotten so caught up in my plans to take over the world—er, make the world a better place—with my book that I had forgotten that I am ridiculously terribly horribly frustratingly glaringly badbadbad at conjuring, much less attempting to do so with my left hand.

So, as pandemonium broke out along the perimeter of the kiosk booth, I merely stared, slack jawed.

Unfortunately, I had forgotten to stop walking.

My foot caught on something hard and I tripped, doing a fair imitation of a banshee, and toppled head first into a large shape. The next thing I knew, I was half laying on said dark shape, half on a very uncomfortable guitar case, staring up into the face of a very incredulous James Potter, who looked as if he couldn't quite figure out why I was suddenly not next to him but laying on the floor.

That was the first thing I realized. The second thing being that the dark shape was in fact, not a dark shape, but a very angry looking bearded hobo…dude.

_Crap!_ If there had been a large enough hole in my thirty meter radius I would have gladly crawled inside it. In light of recent, er, happenings, however, I was currently sprawled most unbecomingly over the guitar case of aforementioned hobo, and, if the pain in my body were any indication, missing quite a few limbs.

For a moment I actually debated just laying there and eventually melting away into the pavement from sheer embarrassment, shock, or a mixture of the two, when I was most rudely yanked to my feet.

"Sorry, sir," I heard James' voice apologizing to the man, who had similarly been helped to his feet. To be truthful he could've been speaking to anybody, but I thought the bearded dude was a fair estimate.

To which the scraggly man replied in a long string of curse words which loosely translated to "What the hell do you think you're doing, girl?"

"You keep your filthy girlfriend away from me or so help me, I'll put the both of you into jail," the man continued, this time directed at James, who was looking quite perplexed.

Girlfriend? Me? Filthy? Now that was a bit unfair, I thought, and I frantically tried to will my unresponsive mouth into telling him so, or, at the very least, apologizing. Unfortunately, all that came out was a string of stutters that faintly resembled the sounds a fish would make it if could speak.

"We're very sorry, sir," James repeated, giving me a nudge. "Aren't we, Lily? We're very sorry?"

I glared at him. Really now, he was acting as if I were a child whom he was persuading to apologize for knocking over a fruit display. That was a bit much, but I suppose he was trying to help. I nodded dumbly, making my fish sounds.

"My girlfriend is a bit addled," he added, shaking his head in a "what will I do with her" manner.

What? I am certainly _not_ addled, I'm just a bit wand in adept, is all. How dare he say such a thing? Do I look addled? I certainly do not, because I certainly am not! …And I am also certainly not his girlfriend. So there.

James voiced something about wanting to pay for damages (although I never did damage anything) and produced a galleon from his pocket. The hobo guy began cursing about the worthlessness of foreign coins.

"What in the world is this?" he exclaimed (again, loosely translated), "I can't run a business on a broken guitar and this…artifact."

Business? I glanced down and spotted a guitar laying a few feet away (which explained the very un-cushion like guitar case), and a hat in which a few crumpled pound notes had been dropped. Oh, so that was it. He was a troubadour. Interesting. I began to ponder the live of such a person—seeing as my mouth was currently refusing to work properly, I didn't really have any other thing to do.

I was just touching upon the subject of income when James' hand, which was still gripping my arm tightly, suddenly _moved away_ rather quickly, and I was left with no choice but to will my legs into running along, lest my arm be ripped out from my socket (which wouldn't have been so bad if it weren't for the fact that that was my wand arm and I was quite attached to it).

The troubadour guy was still shouting curses at us as we ran through the throng and around a corner. Actually, _James_ ran and I…well, I was being dragged along like a rag doll. As soon as we were safely out of ear, eye, or nose shot of Mr. Bearded, I wrenched my arm from James' grasp and shoved him away.

"What the hell are you doing, Potter?" I spat at him—my mouth had become fully functional again—rubbing my bruised bicep. The boy really did have a hell of a grip.

He stared at me, incredulous. "What am _I_ doing? I was rescuing you, for Merlin's sake. What the hell were _you_ doing?"

Er…good question. I actually did not know _what_ I had been doing back there, what with the yellow jet of light and all, but I covered myself up with a loud "hmmph" and a tossing of my head. I admit, I was being a bit unfair here; after all, Potter _had_ gotten me out of a sticky situation, but I had to hang on to whatever amount of dignity I had left.

James just stared at me for a few moments more then muttered something about how ungrateful women are and began striding off. I followed--though I had trouble keeping up with his pace--limping slightly but more or less whole.

"Seriously, Lily, what happened back there?" he asked after a while.

I stopped feeling sorry for myself for a moment. "I tripped over a guitar case, that's what happened," I replied, still in my foul mood. It would take a gang of four Quidditch players to lift me out of my mood, the way this was going. For all I know, it was Potter's fault! Who knows, he could've strategically placed the offending object there while I was preoccupied about soup and candy bars and world famous novels.

That's it, he's jealous that someday I'll be a famous author and he'll be a something or another. Ha, think he's sneaky, does he? Well I've got him all figured out, nothing gets by me.

We reached platform 5 and both automatically glanced up at the train schedule posted in front of us, checking for our train to Essex. We were early.

James gave a wry smile (he really wasn't being himself today, for some reason). "People don't just go crashing over guitar cases for no reason."

"I was distracted," I said, shrugging like it was no big deal. And it wasn't. Okay, if you consider knocking over a shelf full of magazines a big deal, then yes, it would be a big deal, but otherwise, it wasn't.

I snuck a look at James after a while to see his reaction, not that I really cared what he thought. Because I didn't. I mean, why would I? He was just my Head Boy…er, I meant _the_ Head Boy, and an acquaintance. Who happened to have really nice legs.

…I mean…

Oops, there's the train, wouldn't want to be late now would we? I gathered up my stuff and headed in. Well, no, I didn't actually have any stuff to gather up, but hypothetically speaking, if I had any stuff to gather, then I would have gathered it. Because I'm good at that…gathering stuff. Yeah.

Maybe I should just not think for a few minutes.

---

Half an hour later, we had purchased the sweets and were heading back to the station when James suddenly grabbed my arm.

"Hold on a sec, Lily, I'll be right back," he said, and was gone. I was left clutching the "Thank you" bag and rubbing my arm where he had clutched it, which was, might I add, the exact same place that he had grabbed me earlier after the troubadour incident…but I'd rather not touch on that topic again.

Alright. Let's think about something else. So here I am standing in a crowded street in the middle of…somewhere, holding a bag of sweets that weren't even mine, with the directions to the station in James' posession. That's not so bad. There are so many worse situations I could be in.

For example. Let's see…I could be trapped in a glass box with no air holes about to be shipped out to Finland. That would be much worse. Yes. Or…I could be stranded in a deserted island somewhere in the…mid…Pacific…west…place.

Hokay. It's okay, Lily. There's nothing to worry about. You can keep from screaming and running around like a chicken that's just had its head chopped off, sure you can. You're Head Girl. You're going to be a world renowned author one day, you can fly if you believe in yourself enough; you can do anything.

I ignored the stares I was beginning to get from passers by and tried to crane my head over the crowd to see if I could spot James. Really now, where had that boy gone? One minute he was here and the next he was gone, before I'd even had a chance to…well, do much of anything.

Oh crap. Oh no. What if he'd left me on purpose, under the guise of having to go do…something? What if he never came back for me? What if he left me here to rot in this dark, filthy dungeon of my forefathers…?

Okay, fine, maybe I was being a little drastic, but one could see where I was going with this train of thought. I mean seriously, what if Potter was right now on the train back to London secretly laughing his head off because Lily, poor misguided Lily, is still waiting for him to come back.

Well, you know what, _Potter_? I don't need you. No I don't. I can take care of myself, just you wait and see. You wait and see who gets the last laugh (it'll be me) and who has the carpet pulled from under their feet (that'll be you).

Really now, I have no reason to be frightened, I'll just go ask somebody for the directions to the nearest station and catch a train back to London, then to Hogwarts. I don't exactly have money, but if that bearded hobo block back there can do it, well so can I. I have a decent voice; I'll be back at Hogwarts in no t---

(I didn't finish my train of thought because I was suddenly whirled around by somebody who grabbed my arm—again in that same place--and turned me around to face them). I screwed up my eyes tight.

…And screamed.

Yes, I'm sorry to admit it; I screamed. Like a little girl. Right then and there in the middle of the street, with Englanders bustling about trying to do their Christmas shopping.

I screamed. No, let me emphasize it again: I _screamed_. And just to prove my point, one more time:

_Screamed._

Now, before I proceed, let me tell you one thing: If you are ever in the process of being kidnapped, or in circumstances that will soon lead to you to be kidnapped, and you have no defensive plan, just scream. It'll draw attention toward you and scare away the would-be kidnapper.

…However, it is always best to make sure that you are, in fact, in the process of being kidnapped, and that you really are in the presence of a kidnapper, and not just a friend who is wanting to get your attention.

To make a long story short, No, I wasn't actually being kidnapped.

To make an already short story even shorter, It was James.

To say the least, I was embarrassed beyond belief. Forget about crawling into a hole; why not just kill me straight up? It would save a lot of complication.

James immediately clapped his hand over my mouth (by that time I hadn't yet realized it was him) and muffled my protests. He apologized sheepishly to the passers by, doing his "my girlfriend is addled" bit again, and led me to a relatively empty street corner.

Might I mention, however, that the position I was currently in—James' hand over my mouth, my back to him—did not allow me to discern that it was indeed him and not some deranged psychopath. And so I did my best to hurt him, kicking and scratching and still screaming my muffled screams. And when that didn't work, I opened my mouth as best I could, and bit down hard.

Potter released me immediately, cursing something foul, and I immediately whirled around to face him, my hand already halfway to my pocket where my wand lay. Then I realized who it was. My jaw dropped.

Whoops.

There he stood in front of me, the same James Potter I'd known for years, sucking on his palm where I'd bit him and looking very cross indeed. "What the hell, Lily?" He cried indignantly, drawing attention from whatever Englanders that were not already looking at us.

I was frozen maybe two paces from him, my hair disheveled, my cloak wrinkled, my right hand halfway to my pocket (I'd forgotten, apparently, that my want was in my left pocket), staring slack jawed at him. On one hand, I wanted to slap him for almost scaring me literally to death, and on the other, I was more embarrassed than I had ever been in my life. I was also seriously considering running up to him and hugging him for not leaving me in that street to rot and grow old, not that I would admit I was scared, or that I was actually wanting to hug him.

Oh, and let's not forget hungry, confused, and extremely extremely cold.

(Stir well and serve over ice.)

By the time we had both calmed down sufficiently (though James' hand still bore some nasty teeth marks), I'd explained myself vaguely, and the entire city had stopped staring at us, we began to walk back toward the station.

"Damn, Lily, I don't even want to ask," James muttered as we finally reached our platform and boarded the train (in all, the walk to the station took maybe ten minutes, but from that street, it had seemed a whole lot further).

I blushed a bit but remained silent. It wasn't as if I wanted to tell him.

We soon realized that this train was a hell of a lot more crowded than the one in which we had come; and furthermore, the population was largely consisted of well dressed individuals. That is, ladies in evening gowns, fancy hats, and high heels, and men in slacks, dress shirts, and tuxedos. James and I shared a curious look, then chose a seat across from a particularly large woman in a violet sequined dress, a feather boa, and too much lipstick.

The first ten minutes or so of the ride went quite smoothly; in fact, it was quite devoid of any activity. Then, the large woman turned to us and gave us a grandmotherly smile.

Uh oh. This couldn't be good. I glanced at James, who looked a great deal calmer about this matter than I did. I tried to rearrange my face to mimic his expression, but I don't think I achieved anything.

"Good evening, dears," the woman began in a husky voice.

"Er…good evening," James and I replied as one, though he sounded a whole lot more convinced than I did.

The woman beamed at us. " I'm called Eleanor."

"James," offered Potter. He gestured to me. "This is Lily."

I shot him a glare. Of course I knew who I was, I didn't need him to explain it to anyone; I was capable of common speech. Just to prove it, I smiled shakily and added a "Nice to meet you."

Potter glanced at me, but whatever he was about to say was cut off as Eleanor gave a deep chortle and rearranged her pink boa. "Ever been to Cornwall, dears?"

We glanced at each other, Potter and I, wondering what this question had to do with anything.

"Er…no, Ma'am."

"Call me Eleanor," Eleanor grinned.

"We have," she added after a while, "my husband and I, many times." She indicated a middle aged, balding gentleman sitting across the aisle from us.

As we shared a wave with said husband, Eleanor gave a little chuckle.

"You'll love it, dears. It's quite a wonderful place."

James and I must have looked a bit lost because after a moment she explained herself.

"Cornwall. It's quite a wonderful place."

"I'm sure it is," James replied cheerfully, though I'm sure he had no idea where this was going, either.

Eleanor, apparently, was unconvinced, because she gave him a skeptical look and began to eye our outfits, which, I admit, looked very out of place among these people.

"You are going to the dinner party, are you not?" she asked after a while.

James and I exchanged another look before he blurted out "Of course!"

I looked at him, wide eyed. Dinner party? What dinner party? We were going to no dinner party…!

"We thought we'd change when we got there," Potter explained, "We didn't want to wrinkle our outfits."

"Of course, boy," Eleanor replied, nodding as if that made the most sense in the world.

I looked from her, to him, to back again, and was opening my mouth to protest and ask what the hell I had missed when James nudged me in the ribs. I let out a little squeak and clutched at where he had elbowed me, giving him an indignant stare. How did he know I was about to talk, anyways? Gods, the boy was insane.

After the pain diminished, I tried to catch James' eye so we could leave and go talk privately about all of this, but he refused to look at me. I was beginning to get frustrated.

"I remember when I was your age," Eleanor was saying across from us. "I was young and in love…those were the days."

"It's a wonderful thing, love is," James commented, while I tried to disguise my snort as a cough. Really now, what did he know about love?

The woman nodded frantically, her curls bouncing ridiculously. "Quite." She gave us a coy look. "You two dears would know, wouldn't you?"

I stared at her, wide-eyed. Wait just a gosh darn tootin' minute! What was she implying? That James and I were a couple? Because that certainly wasn't the case. Once again, I tried to catch James' eye, but he was distracted otherwise.

"Well, we've had some problems but we managed to work them out," Potter replied, managing to look embarrassed.

Pfft, he wasn't fooling anyone. I gave him a sharp nudge in the ribs, returning the favor that he had shown me a few minutes ago. He didn't flinch.

Eleanor gave us a watery smile. "I'm happy for the both of you," she beamed, and looked as if she wanted to give us a hug, something that neither James or I wanted at the moment.

"We're getting married in June."

My eyes opened wider than snitches, and I again elbowed Potter in the ribs, considerably harder this time, while stomping on his foot. Again, he didn't move a muscle. What was this guy made of, steel?

"But you're so young!"

I frantically shook my head, but neither of the two were paying attention, they were both currently engrossed in the discussion of our marriage.

"Well, we love each other very much."

That did it. I opened my mouth.

"Ma'am," I said quickly, "James here has been lying to you. We—"

But before I could get anything out, Potter had already lugged me to my feet, again, by my already very sore arm. I squealed in protest.

"Sorry Eleanor," he apologized, "but could you excuse us? We need a moment."

"Of course," she beamed, waving us off, "You lovebirds take all the time you want. I'll be here."

Lovebirds! That was going a little too far. I opened my mouth to tell her so, but James was dragging me (again!) down the aisle and the very small washroom, locking the door behind us.

"What were you doing back there, Potter?" I asked him the moment we were alone. "How could you tell her that—"

I was _againagainagain!_ cut off as James flipped the lid down on the plastic toilet, flopped down on it, and pulled me onto him. The next thing I knew, I was sitting on his lap on what must have been the skimpiest toilet ever known to man in what must have been the smallest bathroom known to man. Great. Just great.

This day was turning out just _peachy_.

"Let me go, Potter," I exclaimed, wiggling in an effort to get off.

James' eyes widened. "Whoa, Lily. Stop it. That wiggling is making me, er…quite uncomfortable."

I glared at him, not ceasing in my efforts. What was he on about? How could my wiggling make him uncomfortable? _I_ was the one who was uncomfortable. All I was doing was squirming while I was on his lap. Why would that make him uncomfort….oh.

I stopped.

"That's better," James said, shifting a bit while I tried to stay as still as possible in an effort to not make him…"uncomfortable."

For a few moments there was an awkward silence, then I finally broke the silence. "James…" I began, "why are we going to Cornwall?"

He frowned a bit. "Er…I don't…know, actually. I was hoping you would."

"I don't."

"Oh. Well, that takes care of that, then."

I ground my teeth in frustration. "What? No it doesn't. I don't want to go to Cornwall."

James looked at me as if I were crazy. "Why ever not, Lily dear? Eleanor said it was a wonderful place."

"We _can't_ go to Cornwall."

He raised an eyebrow. "Of course we can. We're already on the train, in case you haven't noticed."

I had.

"James," I said, giving him a stern look.

"Lily," he mimicked me, returning the look.

And then, his face moved toward mine, just a bit. At first, I wasn't sure if it had happened, but after a moment I was positive we were closer than we had been when this conversation started.

"Er…James," I said awkwardly, trying to move away while still trying to keep him from becoming "uncomfortable."

"Yes?" He moved closer by just a hair.

I began to panic. Our faces were now less than a snitch's length apart, and I could see the individual eyelashes framing James' eyes, which were quite a lovely shade of golden hazel, might I add.

"Y-you haven't finished your…your story."

He moved even closer. "The princess and the young man married and lived happily ever after," he replied softly.

I blinked, then blinked again. Nope, this was definitely not a dream. He was still here. Oh my god. Someone help me.

"The end."

I could feel his breath on my face and my heart was beginning to pound faster than normal. Oh gods…I closed my eyes, and then…

CLANG CLANG CLANG

The train went over a series of sharp bumps and James and I immediately sprang apart. Well, actually, _I_ sprang away from him and he stood up, looking disgruntled. I brushed myself off, gave him a small smile, and tried to pretend that had never happened.

…Well, it hadn't. We were just sitting in the bathroom exchanging childhood stories. We never even came remotely close to…Oh Merlin.

---

James gave me a sufficient amount of times to calm down and collect myself before approaching me again. By that time we had returned to Hogwarts, delivered the bag of sweets to a smiling Dumbledore (who I couldn't help feeling knew everything that had transpired that day) and returned to the Head Dorms.

"Hey, Lily," he called towards me just as I was about to open the door to my bedroom. He looked his normal self, but I was still wary. I turned to him, ready to back away and lock the door if he made any sudden moves.

"I got you this gift. Day four, eh?" he said and handed me a small box wrapped in gold foil.

I eyed him suspiciously (and I had reason to, after his previous gifts) and carefully lifted off the lid.

And couldn't keep myself from gasping. Inside the box lay a beautiful heart shaped ruby pendant draped upon a gleaming chain. It was beautiful, and immediately all thoughts of suspicion fled from my mind.

"Wow," I murmured, at a loss for words. "Thanks, James. V-very much."

James just grinned smugly, and if it had been any other circumstances, his haughty expression would've made me want to jinx him. But as it was, I could only stare.

"I got it for you back in Essex."

His tone definitely held a trace of bitterness when he said that, and I blushed a bit (aggrh), thinking of the little…er, 'incident' that had occurred then. So that's what he was doing. Well, why the heck hadn't he told me so? It would've saved me a whole lot of embarrassment.

I tried very hard to put on a this-gift-is-too-much-take-it-back-before-I-curse-you face but my body wasn't cooperating so I just broke out into a huge smile (that I tried very hard to hide) and pulled on the necklace. We said out mutual goodnights and headed to our respective rooms.

Maybe James wasn't so bad after all.

(I couldn't have been more wrong.)

---

**Bum bum buuum!**

**And so the story unfolds. The next chapter will, hopefully, be up in at most two weeks. In the mean time, feel free to check out my other stories/one-shots and please do leave a review.**

**-ToC**


	5. The, Well, Nothing

**Apr 4, 2006**

**A/N: First off, I suppose the first thing I should do is apologize. Sorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorry. I'm entirely sorry for not posting sooner, and I suppose all my readers have given up on me by now. As I stated in my profile, I have been working on this recently, but somehow I cant seem to figure out the same style I had before. I wrote this chapter, tweaked it millions of times, but I'm still not satisfied. So you'll have to forgive me if it's gotten less comical and more…emotional. Guess I just can't keep the humor up.**

**I'm so angry at myself, I was looking forward to writing this chapter. And then school reared its ugly head, and here I am, three months later than when I was supposed to post, stuck with a chapter that I abhor. **

**Go me.**

**Anyways, you'll notice after a while that this chapter is strange. And you'll probably begin to worry for my sanity, but don't worry. It'll all make sense at the end, or so I hope.**

**--- **

**Chapter 5—The...Well, Nothing.**

_Oh god oh god oh god. Someone find me a hole to go crawl into. Right now. _

I can't believe I actually felt happy when I woke up this morning. Like nothing could touch me, you know? Like the world was one giant marshmallow and I had all the time in the universe to devour it.

Then someone—and I wont say who, but I'm sure it's obvious—came and dumped a big steaming bucket of foulness on it. And if you've ever possessed a giant marshmallow, or a little one, for that matter, you'd know how very disgusting they get when wet.

So now, thanks to that steaming bucket of foulness dumper, I am currently laying in the hospital wing instead of upstairs in my nice, warm, bed. Did I mention these sheets feel like they've been drooled over by a very sick ogre then washed with oil? And last time I checked, that was a bad thing.

I didn't like marshmallows anyway.

---

I crawled out of bed this morning fingering the necklace James had given me last night. He really wasn't a bad guy, that Potter, just a little…er, a _lot_ confident. Maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.

I mean, sure, cocky gets a little annoying, but at least he's…he's…at least he's…Well, I'd have to say that…at least he's human. That's a perfectly good judgment, that is. Seriously, I should be glad he's a human, who'd want to be stuck with a _monkey_ for a boyfriend? Or…a _platypus?_

Wait…Did I just say "boyfriend"? I meant acquaintance. Never a boyfriend, because that would mean that I like him and I don't and I don't _want to_…which is good because I don't, and…Ahem. Human.

Humans are good. A whole lot better than monkeys and platypuses, and eggs. I mean, who invented the concept of 'egg' anyway? A spongy yellow ball of…egg, surrounded by clear sticky…egg. I swear, one day I'll find the inventor of "egg" and give him a piece of my mind.

I was stumbling around pondering the human-ness of James Potter and the ridiculousness of "egg" when I found myself staring at the Head Dorm door. Now, this, in itself wasn't at all a strange phenomenon. I often find myself staring at doors. Yep, that's me, super door starer-atter. And did you know? From experience I've learned that if you reach out and turn that little round thing on the door and pull just a little bit, it will open. Woah.

Note to self: Sarcasm is only effective when you can use it properly, and…what was I saying? That staring at doors isn't a strange phenomenon.

No, what made this a strange phenomenon was the fact that there was a note tacked to the door that bore the words, in bold red ink, "READ ME!"

I rolled my eyes. No crap I was going to read it. I mean, what kind of a git goes around seeing notes tacked on doors and doesn't read them? Hmm, I see a note on the door, clearly meant for me…let's _not _read it, shall we? What, do I live in a world of idiots? Good grief.

Another (revised) note to self: Sarcasm…not your forte.

I pried the piece of parchment off the door (yes, pried. It was stuck on there pretty tight.) and lifted it to my eyes. Remembering the fiasco I had two days ago when I decided to read a letter backwards, I decided not to repeat my mistake. Kudos to Lily.

_Lily,_

_Something came up. Don't ask, but please please PLEASE do not do not do not leave the room until I get back. I would've locked the door but you could probably break whatever charm I set._

_--James_

Hmm. Now this was interesting. First off, has that boy ever been taught not to overdo things? Seriously. "Please please please, do not do not do not." Talk about repetition. Jeeze.

Second off, there was no way no way no way I, Lily Evans Evans Evans, would agree to being confined in a room until Gods know when, waiting for some git to show up. I'm a growing teenager! I need my nourishment. And, come on, would it hurt to provide a _reason?_

Third off, he's damn right I'd break whatever charm he'd set. What kind of idiot did he take me for?

I crumpled the paper up in my fist, tossed it into the waste basket, and headed down to breakfast.

---

The entrance hall was delightfully uncrowded, and I enjoyed the silence that resulted from the absence of hundreds of feet viciously pounding along, grinding my sanity into the mud. The four giant hourglasses stood importantly by the entrance. Gryffindor was in the lead of course, though I'm sure we would have a considerably higher point total if it weren't for a certain four boys whose names I'll refrain from mentioning lest I work myself into such a temper that I actually go off in search of said boys so that I could pound _their_ faces into the mud dammit!

Pondering the many cruel and unusual deaths I could deal Potter, Black, and their cronies (and thoroughly enjoying every moment of it), I stepped into the Great Hall, brushing past a very disgruntled looking Severus Snape on the way in.

I made my way to my usual seat, grabbed my usual bowl of cereal, smiled my usual it's good to be alive smile, and began to eat. As I did so, my eyes traveled around the Hall, alighting on the sparse number of students actually remaining at Hogwarts. Potter wasn't to be seen, and neither were any of his friends. Strange.

Ah well, they were probably off setting a toilet on fire, or something ridiculous like that. I found myself hoping that they'd accidentally set their heads on fire. And that I'd be standing by with a camera when they ran by, burning hair and all.

My eyes stopped on Snape, who was hunched over his bowl of Gods know what, his eyebrows drawn together in a frown, munching forlornly. He probably had no where else to go for the holidays but stay here at school, poor guy. He probably had this abusive father and this drunkard mother who could care less about him. No wonder he's always angry looking. He's just misunderstood, is all.

And that James, always picking on poor Severus, didn't he have an ounce of compassion at all? Was he that cold? Piece of garbage.

I angrily stabbed into my bowl with my spoon, not realizing that it had held a piece of toast. Oops. Cursing under my breath, I was hunting for that now probably soggy toast morsel in my bowl when who should show up but Potter.

Have I mentioned how great his timing is? Because it's just _perfect_. Here I was, poking a spoon through my cereal bowl, ranting about the stupidity of toast, when James arrives. I really do hate that boy. Would it kill him to let me hunt my toast in peace?

What if it were a life and death situation, did he ever think of that? What if finding that piece of toast was the deciding factor between my life and my death? And just when I'm on the verge of discovery, just when all that's standing between me and glory is one millimeter of cold milk…he shows up. Great, just great.

"Lily!" Potter shrieked—and yes, I am quite aware that I just used the word "shrieked" to describe James Potter's vocal movements. Just one note higher and it would be a screech.

I sighed and tried to push my bowl away so as to leave, but he was too fast. Damn those super seeker skills of his. Why doesn't he go…oh I don't know, chase a butterfly off a cliff or something?

"Lily," he cried again, softer this time, but just as frantically, as he all but collided onto the seat, tipping forward with the force of his momentum. I extended my arms and pushed at his chest until he had regained his uprightness again.

"Lily!"

Really now, not only was this getting redundant, but I knew perfectly well that my name was _Lily_, and not…Beth or something (thank the gods). Why did he think he had to continuously point it out?

Well, two could play at that game. I crossed my arms, looked him directly in the eye, and imagined at large, stupid troll where Potter now sat. It wasn't particularly hard.

"James," I said.

"Yes, Lily, I—"

"James."

He blinked. "What?"

"James." I grinned at his stupefied expression. This was quite fun.

"What?" he inquired again, dumbfounded.

"That is your name, isn't it? James."

"Yes, Lily, that's my name. Listen—"

"Good," I replied, cutting him once more. "And don't you forget it." I turned back to my soggy bowl of oats conclusively, hiding a smirk.

James actually growled in frustration. Wow, I was getting good at this. I snuck a look at the Slytherin table to see if Severus had taken note of the extremely loud disturbance caused by James earlier. He had. I grinned at him.

"Dammit Lily, listen to me," James was saying angrily, and I reluctantly looked back to him. "Didn't you get my note?"

He meant the note currently lying at the bottom of my waste basket, covered in layers of banana peels and sweet wrappers. The note that was not only incredibly insulting, but also incredibly unfounded.

I smiled sweetly. "What note?"

He cursed and ran a hand through his hair angrily. "I thought for sure you'd see it," he replied angrily."

"Really James," I remarked as casually as I could, "did you really expect me to stay cooped up in the dorm all day, blowing spit bubbles and twiddling my thumbs?"

"You did get it!" he cried in a jubilant tone, "Why didn't' you do as I said?"

I sighed at this surprising show of thickness and repeated myself. "Did you actually expect me to stay cooped up in the dorm all day, blowing spit bubbles and twiddling my thumbs?"

I supposed here I should admit something: I actually find twiddling my thumbs quite fun. And though I've never tried it, I'd imagine blowing spit bubbles to be an interesting past time, if more than a little…disgusting. Good to keep in mind for the next rainy day.

"I told you, something came up. Remus, he—well, er…we had something we had to…take care of."

By this time I was thoroughly tired of this topic. I couldn't care less if Remus was currently being attacked my rabid emus. Well, actually, I would be very unsettled if that were the case, but for the sake of the argument, let's just pretend I don't care. Shrugging, I glanced over at the Slytherin table again. Snape had packed his bags and was leaving the hall, and I rose myself, thinking to have a chat with him. He looked lonely.

James rose as well, grabbing my arm. "Come with me Lily," he said, and made to drag me away.

Remembering the day before (in which James spent at least half the day punishing my bruises by dragging me around all of England), I glared at him and pushed his arm away, striding out into the entrance hall in what I hoped was a dignified manner. I could hear Potter's footsteps following me, his voice calling my name (again!) and I spun around, exasperated. "Leave me alone, Potter," I growled, trying to sound as menacing as I could. I left him standing there, looking stunned at my animosity, and plodded onwards.

---

"Severus!" I called as soon as the boy was within earshot, and he stopped, looked at me, then turned about as if he expected there to be another Severus in close proximity, to whom I was shouting.

I closed the distance between us, and gave him a large grin. I've been told that they were infectious, and now was the time to see how true that claim was.

It wasn't. His face, if possible, folded itself into an even larger frown than before. I could put the saddest clown beside him and its frown would be no where near as large as his. I didn't even know it was possible to encompass so much displeasure in one expression.

"What do you want, Evans," Severus asked in a flat, wary voice. He eyed me cautiously, as if he expected me to strike out at him.

I shrugged. "Just wondered if you'd like to take a stroll with me…around the lake."

He blinked, then blinked again, slightly surprised. He tugged at his raven hair and narrowed his dark eyes in suspicion.

"I guess I've never properly introduced myself," I pushed. It was true. Seven years of classes with him and we've never exchanged more than two sentences, and even then it was only when we were asking the other for spare spider legs. T'was a shame.

I offered him my hand, thinking to astound him with my amazing handshaking skills, but he didn't take it. I frowned at the awkward silence. Fortunately (or unfortunately) James chose that moment to come out of his stupor and had caught up to us, panting slightly.

"Lily!" he cried (again!) as he neared, but was forestalled from saying more as he laid eyes on my companion. "Snape."

Severus shot James an equally cold look and squared his shoulders, managing to look formidable, though he was some two inches shorter. "Potter."

And they just stood there. Yep, plain stood there, motionless. Like statues. I looked between the two of them, waiting for something to happen (at this point even a blink from one of them would do), but nothing. It was as if someone had placed a freezing charm over the two. At this point the world could blow up and Lucius Malfoy could dance by in a toga and they wouldn't even flinch.

How long would it be before one of them moved? I questioned to myself. If I were to, say, go upstairs, take a quick bath, and come back down, would they still be standing there, glaring into each other's eyes? I suddenly had a strong urge to jump in front of them and shout "BOO!"

Needless to say, I suppressed it.

"Er…guys?" I said hesitantly, looking from one to the other nervously. If a fight should break out, Severus would have no chance! I pulled out my wand just in case.

Then, a brilliant idea occurred to me. What I'd do is, _prod_ one of them with my wand. That'll startle them into reacting. What genius, Lily, what genius.

The question was who to poke? I had just started to make a mental pro and con list when Severus broke the silence.

"Go away, Potter," he snarled in that cold voice of his, and I'm sure if I stuck my hand in front of him, I'd feel sparks.

James glared at his adversary for a few moments more, seeming to sum up his worth, then turned to me. "Let's go, Lily," he said, and made to herd me away.

"No, James, leave me alone," I protested, but he had grabbed my arm (still sore from yesterday, might I mention) and was leading me away. I looked over my shoulder at Severus, who was staring at us in confusion. "I'll meet you at the hourglasses in fifteen minutes!" I called at him, but before I could hear his response, James had pulled me around the corner like a puppy on a leash.

"What's your problem, Potter?" I snarled as soon as he had let me go, rubbing at my arm where his fingers had pinched me. I fingered my wand through my robes and did my best impression of a large, angry dragon. I'd show him my awesome ninja…er, charms skills.

"Shut up and listen, Lily."

That threw me off guard. I teetered on the balls of my feet, still in the middle of a lunge. I stood there, balanced crazily with one arm, my wand arm, extended, my other flung out behind me, wavering on my tiptoes, too surprised to be angry any longer. I'm sure I looked like some kind of insane ballerina.

_And next, Lily Evans will do her stunning rendition of A Midsummer Night's Dream._

I quickly righted myself again. James paced around for a moment, then turned to stare at me for a few moments, worried.

I sighed in frustration. "You said 'listen'. I listened. I'm not aware that 'listening' entitled standing around having a staring contest with you for an interminable amount of time."

But James just stood there frowning. "Crud," he said after a moment, then flicked his wand quickly and muttered "Sirius."

Then there was silence. I stared at him, he stared at me. I narrowed my eyes, searching his for any sign of trickery. "Sirius" could be code for anything. He could be summoning a thousand banshees to screech me to death, or a troll to clobber me. Or "Sirius" could mean "Hey little-girl-eating-monster, I've got her cornered!" I must be on the alert. Squinting, I was just about to take a step forward, when—

Crash, Bang, Boom!

These highly unmelodious sounds came from—you guessed it—directly behind me. What luck I've been having recently. I swear, if you take all my luck and condense it into tiny luck-pellets, you wouldn't have enough to plug your ear. Well, unless you just happen to have an especially small ear, but I'm not putting any money on that.

I jumped what must've been ten feet in the air, landing awkwardly and performing a sort of gawky pirouette before coming to a dazed stop, some three feet right of where I had been.

_Did you see that, Ladies and Gentlemen, what fantastic form!_

Crud. No one saw that. _No one_ saw that. I'll perform a combined memory charm myself if I have to, and I'll curse the first person who brings it up, so help me, I will. I'll trap them in a jar and suffocate them. I'll tear them apart with my _teeth_ if it came down to it.

Well…maybe not that last one. I happen to like my teeth very much.

Apparently, as I quickly realized, "Sirius" mean just that—Sirius. I spun around, and saw Sirius Black standing in the spot I had just vacated. He looked extremely tired and not himself.

Holy…! Where in the name of oatmeal did that boy come from? One minute he's not there, and the next he is, looking as solid as a fork. I swear, there must be a million Sirius Blacks hidden in various strategic places of the castle, ready to appear and give me a heart attack at the drop of a hat.

"Trouble, James?" he asked, then spotted me, and the two shared a wary look, while I stood there, trying to look like I knew what they were talking about.

"She didn't see the note?"

"She didn't heed the note," James confirmed, and he shot me an angry look, which I gladly returned.

Sirius heaved a sigh, looking like he didn't want to have to deal with all this, and rubbed his cheek. "So…who?"

"Dunno."

I looked from one to the other, thoroughly convinced that they had somehow decided that confusing someone to death was an apt form of torture. And they were right; it was. Uh, hello guys? Remember me? Lily Evans, Head Girl? I'm dying here!And did I mention I was annoyed? Because I was. Very much so. To the point where I was ready to drag the two by their hair to the top of Mount Everest and give each one a gentle nudge off the top.

"You should've picked a different night," Sirius was saying.

Another night for _what_? I felt like screaming at the two of them. Another night for hockey? For poker? For playing tag with house elves? …Not that I had ever played tag with the house elves, I swear!

"Dammit, Sirius, I forgot, you know that. I had next Tuesday in mind."

Hokay, this was getting ridiculous. If they weren't going to explain to me what the Hell was going on, weren't even going to _acknowledge _the fact that I was there, then forget them. I had to meet Severus in five minutes and Gods help me but I wasn't going to stick around to be confused to death.

I started slowing backing away, then, ten steps later, I bolted. When I could no longer hear their voices behind me, I slowed, caught my breath, and high-fived the nearest statue of armor. Well, actually, the second nearest statue of armor. The first one looked like a gust of wind could knock it over.

_There you have it, Ladies and Gentlemen, the great Lily Evans had done it again._

Two minutes later I was safely in the Entrance Hall, standing to the right of the Gryffindor hourglass waiting for Severus to show. My reflection in the glass showed that I was extremely disheveled, so I smoothed my robes as best I could. It would have to do.

I was slightly curious as to what James and Sirius had been conversing about, but there was no way I'd miss this date with Snape.

Did I call it a date? Well, I suppose it was. Or at least it was a mini date. I hoped he'd bring flowers. Maybe he'd even bring a box of chocolates. Or a gold ring. Chocolate, diamonds, and gold. What fun.

I could picture it now. He'd shyly hand me the flowers and the chocolates, then get down on one knee and present to me the most stunning ring the world had ever seen. And we'd get married in a little chapel. We'll go to the Caribbean for our honeymoon, of course. We will rent our own little houseboat and everything. He'll pick me up in his strong arms, carry me into our room, and toss me onto the bed, where…_Ahem_.

I'm not crazy, of course not. What would make you say that? Uh…Look over there! A centaur!

As it turned out, Severus didn't bring flowers. He didn't even show up. I waited and waited, but nothing. I began to worry. I mean, what if he got eaten by a giant troll on the way up from the Dungeons? What if he was currently being digested, robes and all? What if he had been kidnapped by a giant fire breathing…bird thing and was now dangling helplessly on the astronomy tower, crying for help?

What if he had spontaneously combusted? What if he had been attacked by leeches? Boggarts? Flobberworms? It was highly probable.

Okay, calm down, Lily, calm down. He was just a little late. He'll be here. No; I'll go fetch him. That's what I'll do. I'll go fetch Severus Snape myself. He was just shy, poor guy.

I made my way down into the dark dungeons, past the Potions classroom to where I knew the Slytherin common room was. A stone ghoul type thing barred the entrance way, and the moment I neared, it opened its stone lids and looked at me with eyes that were a startling blue.

"Password?" it breathed—or, hissed, more like. I'm sure I saw a forked tongue.

Er…password. Uh…uh..I know this, just give me a minute.

"Password?"

"Give me a moment, dammit," I muttered. "Uh…Slytherin…rules?"

The statue raised an eyebrow.

Okay, that wasn't it. That's okay, I'd just try again.

"Snake…y."

It stared just stared at me.

"Gryffindors are stupid."

"Gryffindors are ugly?"

"Vile?"

"Trolls?"

"Dumber than trolls?"

"insufferable gits?"

Five minutes later and at least twenty insults later, I was drained of all ideas. I had one option: beg.

"Let me in," I implored, all but flinging myself at the statue's feet, "I mean no harm. I just need to see someone, then I'll be out as quick as a flash. I won't even go in; I'll just call from outside the door. Please?"

The stupid feelingless ghoul looked at me coldly but made no comment.

"Dammit you worthless piece of cinder, let me in or I'll have you painted in pink and yellow daisies!"

Fortunately, before I could further embarrass myself, the gargoyle blinked and rose with a considerable amount of shifting and took a step aside. Yellow daisies? That was the password? Damn I was good! I—

"What are you doing here, Evans?" sneered a cold voice and I looked up to see Narcissa appear from behind the statue. Oh. It wasn't yellow daisies after all. Well, that was good, for I had been having trouble imagining the Slytherings frolicking about their common room wearing nothing but wreaths of yellow daisies. _Not_ a fun image.

"Narcissa!" I cried, too excited to remember that I hated her. "Severus, is Severus there? He's there, is he not?"

She looked me over with her pale eyes and bared her teeth much like a dog bares his. "Why do you want to see him?"

"That doesn't concern you," I replied curtly, trying to get past her and into the room.

"You're right, it doesn't," she replied, and turned to leave. I saw the ghoul pick itself up, ready to move in front of the door again.

"No!" I cried, loosing all sense of dignity. "I…Snape, he…he left his quill. I wanted to return it."

"Give it to me and I'll see that he gets it." She smirked at me, and I cursed my transparent-lie-ness.

"Ah, Dammit Black. We have a date. Severus and I. Now would you _please_ let me see him."

I don't think anything I could've said would have shocked her more, save "I'm actually a male stripper from Ethiopia". Her eyes opened wide and for a moment she lost her composure. When she regained it, however, her expression was amused, mocking. Without a word she disappeared back into the room, leaving me with the statue, who looked at me as if daring me to move.

Finally, after sever nerve wracking moments in which I decided to never look at anyone with blue eyes again, Narcissa reappeared with Severus at her elbow.

"Evans here says you two have a date, Severus. She's been making a fool out of herself for the last ten minutes." she purred.

Severus looked appalled, glancing at me then back at Narcissa. "We had no such agreement," he finally said smoothly, his eyes fixed on me.

"I told you to meet me in front of the hourglasses an hour ago," I reminded him, a bit hurt.

Black looked from me to Snape, then back again, and finally gave a dainty little shrug. "I grow bored with this whole ordeal, and Lucius is no doubt waiting impatiently by now," she sang. "Have fun on your date, and don't stay out too late." She gave me one last haughty smirk and swept away in a cloud of perfume.

After a few moments Severus gave me a thoroughly disgusted look and turned to leave as well.

I panicked. After all I had gone through, I wasn't about to let him get away. "Wait," I cried, and grabbed his arm.

Severus looked at me coldly, then shrugged me aside. "Let go of me, mudblood," he sneered.

You know, coming from him, the word "mudblood" didn't actually sound as bad as it used to. It was much more original than "Dear", or "Honey." I decided he could call me it as often as he liked.

I looked him right in the eye, letting my eyes roam his face. He was singularly pale, and the nose was far from, er…small, but there was a certain attractiveness in pale faced, large nosed guys, I decided. And while he lacked muscle, he had the body of a poet. Lithe, and slightly gawky, but in a good way…I suppose.

And there was something about his quiet determination that was quite attractive. Forget tall, dark, and handsome. Forget cute and rugged. I'd go for Mr. Strong and Silent any day.

Suddenly, right in the midst of the cold dungeon, flanked on one side by that atrocious gargoyle (who was still watching me, might I mention), and on the other by the Slytherin Common room, I felt a miraculous change come over me, and I knew.

It was love. Pure, wonderful love. I felt it in every pore of my body, in every cell, and I felt like shouting it to the world.

…Of course, the world was currently otherwise occupied, so I supposed I'd have to make due with Severus himself and the statue, which no longer looked so hideous, by the way. I decided I loved it, too. Mr. Scary statue guy, would you do me the honor of becoming my husband?

No, I didn't say that aloud.

The entire transformation had taken place in a split second, and when I finally regained control of my senses again, Snape was still looking at me with that disgusted look on his face. It mattered not, I decided. Love could overcome anything.

"Severus," I breathed, and, tightening my hold on his arm, I dragged him out from the doorway, swung him around (fear my muscles of steel), pushed him against the stone wall, and pressed my lips to his.

They were cold and unfeeling but I didn't care. I molded my body to his and ran my hands through his raven hair. It was bliss, pure bliss.

Suddenly there was nothing in the universe but Severus Snape and I. (And…er, that statue, who was still watching us with indifference.) Nothing but deep, unfathomable love. The love of two lovers who loved each other. A lot.

..Then a pair of rough hands grabbed me by the shoulders and wrenched me from my love and my happiness. James.

Okay. The French maid I could take. The dwarf I could take. But this? This was too much. He had no right, no _right_ to drag me away from Severus (and Mr. Ugly Statue) like this. Couldn't he see that something beautiful was taking place here?

"Potter!" I screamed, and was about to hit at him when he grabbed my shoulders again, this time from the front, and _shook_ me.

Let me tell you. When James Potter is angry, he's one heck of a good shaker. And no, I don't mean that in a perverted way.

"What the hell are you doing, Lily?" James snarled, finally stopping and looking me in the eye. I hate to admit it, but I actually recoiled from the expression in his eyes.

Not anger. Pain.

Before I could ponder any further, however, James had shoved me roughly aside into another pair of arms. Sirius. By Gods, was I to spend the rest of my life being shoved from pair to pair of arms?

"Let me go, Black," I ground out, trying to get free, but he held me still without a word, despite my twisting and kicking. His eyes were fixed on Severus, who was still recovering from my advances.

"Snape!" James seethed, turning his wand on him, and my eyes grew wide. No! He was going to _kill_ Severus! I cursed Sirius and thrashed, but all to no avail.

Nonononono. This couldn't be happening. Why, why did James have to ruin my one moment of happiness, _why_? Why wouldn't he leave me alone? He couldn't kill Severus, we were supposed to get married. We were supposed to grow up and have little mini Severuses and mini Lilys. The statue can be their godfather, of course, and we'll find a bride for him too, and…and…

"_Expelliarmus!" _Potter cried, catching Severus off guard and sending his wand skittering down the corridor.

"James!" I cried, almost weeping now, "No!" but he paid me no heed.

"Potter," Severus sneered, and for a moment I wondered if this was to be another one of those staring contests. Oh _please_ let it be another one of those staring contests. That'd give me time to murder Sirius and save my love.

Apparantly James wasn't in the mood for games. "_Never_ touch Lily again," he breathed softly and dangerously, and raised his wand.

He shouted a curse. And in that split second before the curse left his wand tip, all I could think about was what would happen if hit target. And I acted.

Somehow I managed to wriggle free from Sirius' grasp, and as I bolted forward I heard him give a yelp, but it was too late. I was free, and I had thrown myself directly in front of Severus, my arms opened wide, shielding him with my own body.

It was strangely painless.

---

Stars. Millions of them, twinkling stars, spread out in a velvet blue sky like little shining diamonds calling out to me. I just had to grab one. And so I reached out and did so.

The moment my hand touched it, the star vanished, dissolved and disseminated in the nonexistent wind. So this was death? Stars? How decidedly boring. Where were the dancing possums, the friendly fawns? Where was the handsome, well sculpted god to feed me grapes and white wine? This was stupid. This was dumb. I decided I did not want to die after all.

I opened my eyes.

Hospital wing. Gee, how original. When having just experienced a close brush with (and having rejected) death, the hospital wing was the standard place to find oneself. Could they get any more uncreative?

And then I remembered exactly why I was here, and what exactly I had been doing just before I'd been injured. Let me tell you, it wasn't particularly pretty. Suddenly, it all became clear, what had happened, why it had happened, and who's fault it was that it had happened. I'll give you three guesses.

The necklace, that was it. A simple love charm, conceived to make the wearer fall in love with the first person of the opposite sex that she sees. Except that it backfired. In the worst possible way.

I groaned, feeling sore, and rolled onto my tummy, burying my head in the pillow.

"Someday, Lily, you're really going to give me a heart attack."

James. That was his voice, I was sure of it. Of all the people in the world, did it have to be _him_?

_Go stuff your head in a cauldron, James, and never talk to me again._

I said nothing.

I heard him give a small sigh. "I suppose you've figured out what happened...and I suppose I better get this apologizing thing over with before you remember where your muscles are and kill me."

I simply laid there, not paying attention to James' babbling that he was sorry and that he didn't mean for things to happen the way it did and that he'd dye his entire head pink if it would make me forgive him. Which wasn't such a bad idea.

One good thing about the jinx that James had hit me with, at least it jolted me from the confines of the love charm. Otherwise I'd probably be doing some very unseemely things with Severus Snape in a broom closet right now. And believe me, while I was—ugh—kissing Snape earlier, I'd wanted to do some very wrong things indeed. I'll spare you the details, but let's just say it involved chains. I suddenly felt nauseas, and considering the very **bad** image that I'd just had, I couldn't blame my stomach for wanting to reject all its contents.

Maybe if I just lay here, I'll change time by the force of my will. Maybe today was just a dream, and I was actually only here because I tripped over a bookbag, fell down the moving staircase, and landed face first in a pile of ectoplasm.

And maybe tomorrow the sky will turn to dust and Lucious Malfoy will shave his head.

I sighed and nuzzled further into the pillow, too weary to feel any real emotion. Gods. Was the boy _still _talking? Apparently, yes.

"I don't know what you want from me, Lily, gods know I've tried everything to get you to like me. Guess I need to try harder." James' voice had a bitter note to it, and without looking I knew exactly the expression on his face. Every crease, wrinkle, and nuance.

"Er….Lily?"

_Can't you see that I don't want to talk to you right now, Potter? Is the suffocating myself with a pillow not enough for you? What do you want me to say?_

"Yes, well…" The remark was followed by the scraping of a chair as James pushed it back, rising.

"I have a detention," he said, "several, actually, and I'm late. Nurse will probably be here to chase me out soon anyhow. Rest up, Lily. You'll need to save your strength for being angry at me tomorrow." He paused. "I'd give you something for day five, but…I'd rather not risk it."

He paused, and I waited before his steps had retreated before I let my breath out and rolled back onto my back. So he'd shy away from me for a while.

I wondered that I didn't feel any happiness at that thought. I'd always thought, that, when this day came, I'd run around in circles, sing "hallelujah" and go waltz with the giant octopus, but strangely now I had no such urge.

I was also surprised that I didn't feel quite so much anger toward him as I had expected. Under any other situation I'd be raging, breathing fire and cutting his body into ten hundred pieces…but right now all I felt was weariness.

Ah well. I was tired. Give it some time, and I'd be sure to be octopus bride tomorrow.

**--- **

**A/N: **

**And there you have it. Not anything to be proud of, but at least I finally got it up. Reviews are welcomed. Seriously. The sporadic reviews I got after the last chapter went up were the only thing that kept me from abandoning the story all together. **

**Oh, and ideas—very needed. I'm out of them. **


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